The Depth
by Gaara and his Little Panda-kun
Summary: It was a night of weakness that brought that halfblood into his arms... When all he longed for was purity...  Tom Riddle in school, yay!  Rated T for gore and violence, and some crude language.
1. Chapter 1

Rain tapping on the castle rooftops, students retired to their common rooms after a large and healthy dinner.

One boy, however, walked up the staircase and straight into his dorm, not even bothering to see if anyone was following. As soon as he stepped inside the door, it swung closed and locked behind him.

Ruffling his hair, he sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, beginning to untie his shoes. Today had been one of those days where he couldn't seem to get what he wanted, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how brilliant he was, he would never understand human emotions.

Another sigh emitted from his lips and he cast a glance at the window, watching the water trail down the windowpanes. A quick flash of black by the windows and soon he was up, walking to see what it was.

Glancing out the window, he saw it was nothing of sheer importance; a gray owl simply let loose out of the owlry. Looking down over the grounds, he did notice something out of place, though, with the rain, it was hard to tell if it was real. Squinting slightly, he looked at it more keenly; it looked like a carriage of some sort was arriving at the doors of the castle. A man wearing gray robes- no doubt Professor Dumbledore, by the way his white hair cast over his back and his long beard did the same to his front- stepped out of one side; somebody else stepped out of the other side. Though they appeared to be a mere blob to him, he could sense they were about his age.

Straightening his stance, he heard the door behind him rattle with a knock, and he turned, waving a hand at the door. It clicked open, and a girl with platinum blonde ringlets stared at him, her gray eyes piercing into his own. He looked at her impassively.

"What do you want with me, Gloria?" he asked dismally, as if he'd been through this with her before.

"I wanted to know if we could perhaps study for-"

"Later, later," he said, grabbing his cloak and swinging it about his shoulders in one fluid motion. "Right now, I have business to attend to." He swept past her and down the stairs, crossing the common room with a few commanding strides and was out the door in a flash, leaving Gloria to stand in his doorway and wonder what Tom Riddle was up to next.

Through the hallways they seemed to fly, her body fighting to stay awake and stay in pace with this mysterious rescuer of hers. But even though she fought valiantly, she felt her hand being grabbed by his, and she looked up into the old man's eyes. _The old man, the old man who saved my life..._

"Daddy...? Where is...?" Her words faintly trailed off into oblivion and she felt herself falling. The man did not move nearly as fast as the other man did-

_Wait... What other man?_

She was turned over in the strong arms that caught her and a sigh of relief escaped the lips of the old man. "Thank you, Tom," he said in that wise voice that reassured her on the ride there that it was all okay. "I must admit, she's quite scared. Would you mind carrying her into my office for me?"

"Not at all, sir," a sly voice said, and her eyes were wide open, staring up into the face of what seemed to be a young adonis. Just looking at him rescued her somehow, and she felt herself stiffen and become terrified as she suddenly saw somebody else's dark hair, somebody else's smile- though less snarky- and somebody else's eyes.

"Victor!" she cried, flailing about in his arms. "Victor!" Her shrieks were those of terror.

The old man told him they had to be quick and so they were, him gliding through the hallways in a manner so like that of-

"Victor!" she continued to scream, her eyes glazed over, her body flailing violently. "VICTOR!"

"Damn!" the man holding her said angrily, and she could feel the old man's gaze on him. "Pardon my language, professor," he apologized, and the old man nodded, seemingly finding it fitting he should swear. "But what happened to her?"

"That is a story for another time, Tom," he said softly, ascending a staircase, the boy, Tom, following. "For now, lay her on that sofa. I shall tend to her wounds."

Her body hit soft velvet and Tom's face disappeared, and her shrieking ceased. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes wide, and then, suddenly, the glaze in them was gone, and she began to cry. It wasn't screaming, though; it was whimpering, moving to hide her face in her arms. Tom stared at her in odd amazement. Then, he looked back at what Dumbledore was stirring in a goblet.

"Tonic, for her nerves," Dumbledore replied to the invisible question, adding a bit of gin. "And the gin's to help it settle in better. Make her feel warmer." He glided across the room and pulled at her arms to free her face; but they stayed firmly in place.

"My dear," Dumbledore said in a soft voice. "I wish to help you. I promise you, those men are gone now."

She freed her face, tears running down her cheeks still. "And what of my father? And my mother?"

"I'm afraid they're gone, too," he said. "Drink this, please." He handed her the goblet and she drank from it; slowly, at first, then faster, until it was empty. She dropped it to the floor with a clang, and she laid there, feeling her body settle. In a few moments, she slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Dumbledore sighed, standing up and looking down at her sadly. "It's a shame, what happens to families with secrets," he said. "Had I gotten there two seconds later, she'd be dead." He looked at Tom, that sadness still there. "I suppose you deserve to know what happened to her family, seeing as I put you through this."

Tom gave no confirmation of this being necessary, but Dumbledore began telling him anyway. "Her parents were both Muggles. Or, so they assumed. Truthfully, her mother was a witch who'd never really gotten in touch with her wizarding side. This very night, she was attacked by a few rogue wizards who'd broken out of Azkaban somehow. They killed her and her father, and then used Crucio on the poor girl until she couldn't tell good from evil." He looked back at her.

"Her brother had burst into the room the same time I did- wielding a wand, no less- and tried to kill them using the forbidden curse. They beat him to it, of course, and killed him where he stood. I had to take care of them myself... I tied them up and took her away. Discovering she was a witch, I took her here."

He looked back at Tom, seeing no emotion in the boy's eyes. "She will need a week to recover. I shall stay up tonight to take care of her. In the morning I will sort her. Speak of this to nobody."

Tom nodded. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer I do it?"

"No, Tom, I've already asked too much of you tonight," Dumbledore said. "I bid you goodnight. And good luck on your quiz in Potions."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said, trotting towards the door. Taking one last glance at the girl who slept fitfully on the bed, he looked up at Dumbledore again. "Do you know her name?"

Silence. Tom was about to leave when he heard a weak whisper.

"Chandler. Chandler Antoinette."

Nodding, Tom closed the door and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Your Kind**

A week passed like a flash. Tom's thoughts had not flitted at all to the girl resting in Dumbledore's office. In fact, they were more focused on-

"Tom!" a shrill voice cried, and he inwardly groaned, banging his head on the Great Hall's Slytherin table, instantly feeling it being lifted by the annoying girl now standing in front of him. He was blinded by nearly-white ringlets, gray eyes, pale skin and a thin face. The same face, eyes, and ringlets that had been bugging him for what seemed to be his whole life.

"What a joy," Tom replied, and she blushed. "What is it, Gloria?"

"Slug Club's meeting tonight for Slughorn's Halloween Party," she said. "And a daaaaate is manditory!"

"Oh, good for you," Tom said, nearly angry with how this conversation was going to turn out. Then again, the woman had followed him around since year two. You'd think she would be through with him, like she was through with Kenny Jonston after just one year-

"I was wondering if you'd go with me," she asked, suddenly sheepish. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to speak.

He was about to reply with the usual 'I already have a date', but he noticed something odd. Staring over her shoulder, he watched as another girl walked into the room, sat down at the Ravenclaw table, sliding away from the many who tried to sit with her, and flipped open a book, staring into it.

"Tom?" Gloria asked, following his gaze to stare at Chandler with him. She turned around stiffly, looking him in the eye. "Oh, I see. You want to go with the new girl."

"Yes," he said, without thinking. "I just want to show her around. Next time, maybe, I'll go with you." He stood up, ignoring her suddenly sullen manner, and walked over to the Ravenclaw table. But before he could slide into the seat in front of her, someone else did.

"'Ello, lovely," the bulky man said, and Tom nearly grimaced. That was Kenny Jonston; the Kenny Jonston Gloria had enough of after just one year. And she was obviously clingy; this was the fourth year she was trailing Tom. The girl- Chandler, he remembered- looked up from her book, over spectacles that were once unseen by Tom, at him.

"Hello," she said in a plain voice. With that, she dropped her attention back to her book.

He tugged the book out from under her gaze and looked at the front. "Primeival Attempts at Murder'? Oh, I could totally show ya a few attempts at _**something,**_ that's fo' sure." He grinned.

She grabbed at her book; he held it away from her. "Please return my property," she said, her voice still dismal. "I don't know anybody here, I'd hate for us to get off on the wrong foot."

"But, darling," he said, standing up to avoid her latest grab at the book. "I gotta teach you somethin', don't I?" he asked. "Just gimme a kiss, and I'll give ya your book back. 'Kay?"

She sighed frustratedly, removing her glasses and setting them on the table. She stood there a few moments before leaning forward grudgingly, stopping a few inches in front of Kenny's face. He grinned smugly, leaning in to close the gap-

The book slipped from his fingers and levitated in between their faces. Chandler grabbed it and Tom let it go without a fuss. He glared at her, and she grabbed her glasses, running from the room.

Kenny turned to Tom, anger painting his bulging features. "What was that for, Squib?"

"Decency," he said. "Save it for the common room." With that, he turned and left the fuming Hufflepuff in the Great Hall.

Entering the hallway, he was surprised to see Chandler standing there, looking up at him and widening her eyes. Sparing her only a glance, he turned to walk in the opposite direction as her-

"Thank you," she said. He stopped walking and turned to her. Not an emotion played his features.

"You're welcome," he said dully, and with that, he turned and walked away.

He was only two steps away from her, though, when a pair of thin arms wrapped around his neck, and he groaned. "Hello, Gloria."

"Since she's not in the Slug Club," she said in a sing-song voice. "Why not go with me?"

He sighed. "I suppose I must." She squealed. "After all, it'd be quite rude to show up without a date."

She sighed dreamily into his ear and ran back into the Great Hall. Tom sighed, brushing off his shoulders before walking on again, completely forgetting about Chandler Atoinette all over again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Buried in Books, Living in Literature**

Walking through the hallways on this quiet Saturday afternoon, while all students wandered off to Hogsmeade to buy sweets from Honeydukes or drink at the Three Broomsticks, Tom felt his normal cold demeanor slip back into place as he looked out a window onto the cold, fall landscape and wondered, very seriously, why things weren't going according to plan.

First of all, he hadn't been able to get any new information on that forbidden potion from Slughorn the night before at one of his usual dinners. And secondly, it was all because of that oddity, Chandler.

She'd wandered into the classroom, inturrupting very briefly and discussing something she'd read in a book with the professor before bounding off. And it was silly, his reaction; he watched her go, then proclaimed his liking of her. If she joined the Slug Club, it would ruin all his chances of getting information out of his teacher; he'd be constantly distracted by her.

Sighing, he glared out the window, swearing he could see platinum blonde ringlets bouncing down that hill. Ah, yes, not to mention Gloria's ghosting over him. The girl had no abilities Slughorn would be impressed by; she was merely a tool to get to her father, a dear friend and advisor to the minister, though that was not a paying occupation, it did him loads of good. Gloria was just as much of a nobody as Chandler was.

Impassiveness once again overtook his features and he suddenly looked away from the window and down the hall, hearing a faint echo. It sounded like a high pitched, unnatural shriek of some sort. Like a dying cat. Intrigued by the noise, Tom followed it down the deep hallways of Hogwarts and found himself wandering towards Slughorn's room. Expecting the worst, he knocked on the door to the professor's chambers and waited to be shooed away.

Instead, however, Slughorn himself answered the door, and Tom easily pasted his smile on his face. "Oh, it's just you, my boy," Slughorn said happily, obviously expecting somebody he wasn't going to let in.

Tom applied his tone of voice he took with all teachers; very mature and reliable. "Good evening, Professor."

"Come on in," Slughorn said, and Tom thanked him with a nod before stepping inside and finding that the odd shrieking he heard was the sound of a record playing a classical orchestra. And, sitting on the sofa, wearing, for some odd reason, a shaggy white dress shirt and slacks, was Chandler, sipping a goblet of what appeared to be fine wine. She looked at Tom and nodded respectfully; the glasses were gone.

"Miss Antoinette and I were discussing a bit of potionery she found in the library," he said. "And she brought me my favorite wine and a bit of music to lighten the mood." He let out a very proud smile. "She's the brightest Ravenclaw I've ever met in this day and age; a potions genius, not to mention very beautiful-"

"Professor, please," Chandler implored, but he merely chuckled at her blush.

"Nonsense, child, you're worth bragging about!" Slughorn led Tom to sit, much to his displeasure, next to Chandler, who poured him a goblet of wine and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks very stiffly and took a drink.

"We were talking about how to make Felix Felicis," Chandler said, taking a sip of her wine, and Tom looked at her incredulously. "And how it could be made, along with a few other potions and how intermingling potions was harmful to the user-"

"She was actually wondering if there was a bit of Calming Draught in Felix Felicis," Slughorn said, half-drunk, and he sipped on his wine a bit more. "And a few of the ingredients are similar, though not exactly alike."

"We were just getting to what exactly was in Liquid Luck, weren't we, Professor?" she asked him, and he nodded.

"I honestly can't remember, but I'm pretty sure we were there," he said, chuckling. The rest of the night was spent exchanging questions, jokes, and a few laughs.

As soon as it hit five o clock, and the two students were summoned for supper, Slughorn dismissed them, and Tom felt relatively thrilled the knowledge he had been struggling to obtain had gotten to him so easily.

"It was nice to meet you, Professor," Chandler said, curtseying politely and leaving. Tom bowed and followed her, liking a word with her.

She trotted down the hall, secretly smelling her own breath; she loved that wine more than anything in the world, especially since it had a bit of Calming Draught in it. The hiccuped lightly and opted out for skipping dinner.

"Excuse me," Tom said, and she stopped, turning to face him.

"Hello," she said, curtseying to him, too. "What may I do for you?"

"We weren't properly introduced," Tom said, once again putting on his seductive charade. "Tom Riddle." He held out a pale hand.

Chandler looked at his hand and grasped it with her own small one, looking him the eye. "Chandler Antoinette," she said, and her breath, mingled with the wine, fanned across his face. Up close, she smelled fondly of a dahlia, but he ignored it. He hated women, anyways; they were all just like Gloria.

"I just wanted to say you really helped wit-"

"Your research?" she asked, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, I know about your wanting to make Felix Felicis to help you with your escapades. What your escapades are, I haven't the foggiest." She straightened herself out. Tom just now noticed her shirt was made of silk.

"How did you know?" he asked, befuddled she knew, but masking it well.

"I saw you in the library once," she said. "Pouring over an old book you managed to worm out of the caretaker. I saw the word 'Felix' and that was all I needed." She looked at him, admiration in her eyes. "You use your power over teachers very well." She sighed. "I've not nearly as much power as you. I use wine and good music, as well as charisma. You use charm, intelligence, and the undeniability of a prodigy."

Tom nodded, hearing what he already knew. Except, of course, her seeing him in the library. "So you did this for me, then, did you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"So I could properly thank you for saving me from Kenneth Jonston."

Tom laughed dryly. "So this was all about paying me back?"

She nodded sheepishly. "Indeed, it was."

"Well, you paid me in galleons what you borrowed in Knuts," he said. "I desperately needed that information."

"And I desperately needed escape," she said. "It was the least I can do. So now that you can brew Liquid Luck, you no longer need me to get more information. You can forget my existance once again." She curtseyed to him and headed off to her dormitory. He looked after her, watching her ascend the stairs before heading to dinner. Not even Gloria could ruin his day now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Silver Bells**

When Tom's roomates got up, around nine or ten in the morning, they always made sure not to look at him as he sat in his bed, staring at them. Though they thought it was creepy of him to be staring at them as they slept, they felt it was normal enough by now to be shrugged off, and did so. Even as they changed their shirts and used the bathroom one at a time, Tom's eyes lingered on them, and though that severely creeped them out, enough to even question his sexuality, none of them dared bring it up.

Truthfully, Tom wasn't interested in boys. Or girls, for that matter. He wasn't interested in bodily functions, or the way the body moved. It was the pattern of humanity that kept him severely interested. He noticed that every morning, when he got up early enough, the blonde haired boy, whose name escaped him, would always use the bathroom first. Always. And he had the habit of rustling his hair after he put on his shirt. Then the black haired boy would use the bathroom next, the next day an alteration of the black haired boy with darker skin using it second. Then the two redheads would fight over it, considering they were brothers. However, they fought with civil language and deadly hospitality, unlike most of the other houses. By the time the boys were all finished, they would find it safe to look at Tom's bed, simply because he would have disappeared by then. But today, he disappeared a little early.

About three hours early, to be exact.

Right now, he was walking down the halls on this bitter Sunday morning. Gloria would have no place to go, and so he escaped the Common Room as quickly as possible to hinder her finding him. He wanted peace this morning, but didn't know where to go.

Then it hit him. Library.

He quickly took a sharp turn-almost missing the hallway leading to the library-and wandered down it, walking into the library as quickly as he could and shutting the door just as quietly.

He turned around, closing his eyes and breathing in the musty smell of the library. The books there all smelled of age-old parchment, and Tom delighted in the smell of their decades-old print. He slowly walked through the abandoned library and looked around. The only light coming into the room was from the windows, and that wasn't much light at all; the sun had only just risen, and a thick layer of clouds blocked the sky. Not to mention the snow piled on the windowsill outside.

Looking around Tom suddenly realized there was something wrong. It was too serene in the library for it to be normal. Usually a few Gryffindors would be in here, conjuring up some new spell to make 'those Slytherins pay for what they did', or a few Hufflepuffs pouring over books with fascinating subjects, like herbology, or maybe a Ravenclaw or two sitting together, studying in complete silence. Never would you find a Slytherin, besides Tom, sitting in the Library doing something productive.

Nobody was here but him. Why did it feel wrong?

He looked at a row of books, noticing the faint glow of a candle bouncing off of them. He turned his gaze slowly to where the light was coming from; a small table sandwiched between two large shelves, and thus, blocked from his view. As he neared the table, he could slowly hear soft humming growing louder in his ears. It seemed like some sort of lullaby, dull, but sharp in his ears at the same time.

He slowly neared the shelf and peered over the side of it, not surprised at all at what he saw; Chandler Antoinette, humming a song and flipping a page in a book. It seemed she was writing something as well, her arm raised with a quill in it as she read something and then penned it down neatly. He noticed, though, that when she raised her arm and shook it to get her sleeve away, there were a few cuts and slices on her arm. They looked deep, too, by the looks of it; but she began to write again, and the sleeve wandered its way over the wounds once again. He pretended he took no notice of them. They were of no importance.

She sat up straight and stretched slightly, and now he could see the cuts on both her arms; and this time, he couldn't ignore it. Chandler's arms were absolutely covered in wounds; deep and long, scraping her arms and dusting her skin. Maybe this was why she was so pale.

She yawned, then glanced around to find the clock; it was 7:35 in the morning.

"Whoa," she murmured quietly to herself. "I've been here all night?"

"That's an unhealthy thing to be doing, Miss Antoinette," he said, stepping out of the shadows. "I suggest you don't make it a habit."

Chandler breathed a sigh of relief after her head whipped around and her eyes met his. "I thought you were the caretaker. He said he'd let me stay in here as long as I needed to, but I thought maybe he would come and get me after too long." Her eyes were a little sunken in, and her face was tired, but besides that, she was normal. "What are you doing up so early, Tom?"

"Just getting a bit of my reading in," he said, looking around. "I thought I'd be alone."

"I'm sorry," Chandler said, putting her quill down. "I can leave if you wish it of me."

"No, it's fine," he said, still looking at all the books. "There's nothing too interesting here anyways." He then looked down at what book was spread in front of her. "And what is that you're reading?"

"Nothing," she said, closing the book abruptly. "Just a bit of night-reading. I have a project due, so..." She quickly rolled up the parchment sitting in front of her, putting her quill back in the ink pot. Her sleeve slightly dragged on the ink and it tipped, pouring over and running into her sleeve. She made no noise of distaste, though, as she simply laid her stuff far away from the ink mess. She looked at her sleeve.

"Maybe you should take off your robes, Miss Antoinette," he said. "I can get the ink out if you let me."

"Nah, the robe is black," she said quickly. "Nobody will notice the difference."

Tom cocked his head. "Miss Antoinette, please. Allow me to assist you."

Chandler looked at Tom, her expression unreadable. "No, **you** please, Mister Riddle, considering how formal you've decided to be," she said. "I'm well aware of your good intentions, but I don't understand why you are lamenting over the simple happenstance of a bit of ink getting into my sleeve. It isn't dripping from my sleeve, as you can see very clearly. Perhaps you are hard of hearing or hard of sight, but I require no assistance."

Tom nearly smiled at her fine usage of vocabulary, but he hid it well. He watched as she rubbed a bit of the ink between her fingers. "I apologize for pushing you out of your comfort zone," he said. "I merely wish to repay you for getting me that recipe."

She stopped, looking at him incredulously. "I thought that order was prepaid," she said. She looked at the ink on her fingers before looking back at Tom, her face determined. "No, I'm absolutely sure it was. Don't bring up skeletons from the closet, Mister Riddle."

"Consider it a tip, then," he said. He held out his hand. "If you will not remove your robe to do it, then I shall simply remove the ink while it's on."

Chandler held her arm close, as if contemplating something, but then held out her arm to him. He grasped her forearm, feeling her muscles tighten as he raised his wand and murmured a small incantation. She watched, fascinated, as all the ink in her sleeve rushed up into the tip of his wand. Soon, her robe was dry. He released her arm and turned to the table, moving the ink so it returned to the pot. The table was spotless. Chandler put her finger on the table gingerly before placing her palm on the table and slowly moving it around. She then picked it up and looked at her palm.

"Magic is quite a wonder, is it not?" Tom asked, and she looked at him. Her expression was unreadable again.

"Magic is no wonder," she said, holding her arms close to herself. "It's merely a curse."

Tom only looked at her, but she was looking at a particularly big cut on her wrist. It went straight across, right beneath her palm. Tom could see how deep it was; it was so deep that the walls of it cast shadows on the inside. Not even the light could enter, because the sides were so swollen. He looked at her eyes; some sort of ghost was swimming in there, as if she were drowning in her memories. Finally, her head shot up and she looked at him, covering her wrist with her sleeve. A few moments went by where they just looked at one another. Chandler opened her mouth to speak-

-and the library door burst open, a few people walking inside.

"We'll take on those damn Hufflepuffs once we find her-"

"Where's Antoinette?"

"Chandler!"

Chandler looked at the bookshelf that blocked her from the door. She then looked back at Tom. Just then, a brown-haired boy peeked out over the edge of she shelf and took one look at Chandler before yelling, "I found Antoinette!" He then took a look at Tom and slunk back a little.

The other two pushed forward past Tom and began to talk to Chandler, disregarding his existance.

"Those Hufflepuffs think they know everything!" a strawberry-blonde girl yelled, tugging at Chandler's sleeve. "They challenged us to a battle of wits!"

"Then they got crazy," murmured a boy with shaggy black hair next to her. His hair was so long it covered his eyes. "They joined up with Gryffindors and they proposed a Quidditch match."

"We don't want to put you through hell with the Quidditch thing, so we're not asking," the strawberry-blonde said. "But we absolutely need you for the wits contest!"

"The winner gets something from Slughorn," the shaggy-haired boy murmured, then he sighed exhaustedly. "He's supervising the whole thing. He's the one who started it."

"Even the Quidditch stuff! Can you believe it?" the strawberry-blonde pouted. "He's not even into Quidditch." She then gazed into Chandler's eyes. "So whaddya say? You wanna be our representative for the wits match?"

Chandler nodded softly, and the strawberry-blonde instantly asked the shaggy-haired boy to grab her stuff and began pushing her out of the library, while chatting about how she was to get prepared. But before Chandler made it out of the door, she pushed her way back into the room and bowed respectfully to Tom. "Thank you, Mister Riddle."

Tom nodded back to her. "And good luck in your contest, Miss Antoinette."

The strawberry-blonde and the brown haired boy had their mouths agape-Tom couldn't tell if the other boy was as well-as Chandler walked out of the room. They followed shortly, leaving Tom alone.

Tom looked back to the table and furrowed his eyebrows. He touched where the ink once was; where Chandler disbelievingly pushed her palm. "Chandler Antoinette," he said softly to himself. "I've heard of a lot of witches and wizards wanting to be someone else, but never have I heard a witch of your standing call magic a curse."


	5. Chapter 5

**Riddles, Unexplained**

"Correct, Miss Antoinette!" cried Slughorn from his desk, and he jumped out of his seat. "It's no question who the winner is! Ravenclaw gets the reward, I hope you spend it wisely-of course you will, you're Ravenclaws!" He let out a guffaw and quickly ran into his ingredients room, making an awful lot of noise, but only Chandler could hear it over the cheering of the Ravenclaws who sat in to watch. Coming back out of the room, he handed a small vial to Chandler and pat her back softly. "My dear," he said, smiling at her. "I have a proposition for you. Come here to my rooms tonight and we'll discuss it openly. Say, 6 o'clock?"

Chandler nodded, and Slughorn looked at the clock. "And now," he yelled, quickly jogging to his desk and pulling on a thick cloak and hat, "it's off to the Quidditch match!" The many students piled in the room quickly jogged out, some of them already wearing Quidditch uniforms. The strawberry-blonde burst through all the people, with the shaggy-haired boy and the brown-haired boy from before trailing behind her.

"We've decided to let you keep the reward, Chandler!" she smiled brightly. "You earned it!" Then, she dashed off, the other two in tow, and they joined in the crowd once again. Chandler watched them go, hearing a few 'maybe Chandler should try her luck on a broom's and 'if Chandler's this smart off the broom, wait until she gets on's as everyone filed out. Then, standing alone in the room, she looked at the vial in her hand. She turned it over, trying to identify the liquid. Looking at it closer, she suddenly remembered Slughorn's words from that night; the night she paid Tom Riddle back.

_"Once you're done with Felix Felicis," he slurred slightly, and she could tell he was mildly drunk. She would, of course, leave before he became so drunk it was quite shocking, but until then, she had to wait and listen. Besides, getting the Professor drunk and feeling like he was safe was the most effective way she knew to get information out of him. "It should turn a nice golden color. Like the sunshine's rays on a perfect day, reflecting off the lake. Or the hair of a beautiful princess." He let out a tipsy laugh, silenced by a small hiccup. "Or, in a more nice example, considering the sun isn't quite shining today, the firelight reflecting off of your hair. Sure, your hair may be brown, but with the white of the flames, it turns into the best kind of luck." He narrowed his eyes. "Who knows; maybe you're the princess I just mentioned!" They both laughed at this, but Chandler was jotting mental notes. With luck, she would be able to copy this down and stick it in Tom Riddle's book before midnight._

Her eyes widened considerably and she looked at the vial in her hand. She then looked at the window; the sun was blocked. And she wouldn't find a princess anywhere. She quickly ran to where Slughorn's bensen burners were located and turned one on. She then held up her hair next to the flames. It was golden; golden like the liquid in the vial. She sighed. "How cliche, Professor," she said. "But how right." Then, standing up, she had the perfect idea of how to 'spend' this little reward.

"Tom!" cried Gloria, looking around the hallways. "Tom Riddle, where are you?"

Chandler hastened slightly towards Gloria, noticing her and stopping in front of her.

"'Scuse me," she panted, for she had run a long way. "Have you seen Tom Riddle?"

Gloria's eyes slightly widened and she looked Chandler up and down. "I might have," she said softly, in an almost haphazardly way. "Why do you want to know?" She looked almost disgusted with Chandler.

"I have something for him," she said, smiling a little. "I think he'll enjoy it."

"I'm his girlfriend," Gloria said, holding out her hand. "If I see him, I'll give it to him."

Chandler shook her head. "I'm afraid it's very important," she said. "I can't risk it being in anyone else's hands except for Tom's."

Gloria's eyebrows furrowed. "You can trust me with this. I'm his girlfriend. It's not like I'm going to throw it away."

Chandler shook her head again, still smiling. "I still can't trust you with it. I'm sure you're a very trustworthy girlfriend, and I'm sure Tom respects you for that. But I've only just met you. I can't quite put this big of a job on you."

Gloria sighed. "Fine," she said. "Go look for him yourself. I'm sure he's in his room right now." That was a lie, and Gloria knew it. The only times Tom Riddle went into his room were after dinner and before everyone woke up. She was only trying to throw this girl off, simply because she didn't like the way she addressed him as if she knew him. She'd never even seen this Ravenclaw around school, anyway.

"Thanks," Chandler said, and she trotted towards the Slytherin Common room. Turning down a hall, she looked around, noticing how everything was growing older and weary-

Her eyes widened as she caught Tom Riddle standing against the wall with his eyes closed tight. Her smile could not have been brighter.

"Tom!" she said, and Tom's eyes shot open. She was about to repeat his name when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, turning her quickly and placing a hand over her mouth. She struggled against him, but his strength was far superior to hers, especially in her weakened state.

"Shut up," he hissed softly in her ear, and she did so accordingly. Footsteps sounded near them, and Chandler started to move again, trying to escape-_this is so wrong, this is so_-but he held her even closer. "Stop moving," he whispered, the malice in his voice gone, but Chandler struggled even harder. "Miss Antoinette," he whispered, but she still kept moving. She had to get out of here; she couldn't get caught like this, caught in the arms of the one person she had a mutual rivalry with in this whole damn castle. So she kept moving, kept struggling to be free of his grasp. "Chandler," he murmured, and she slowed down a bit. "If you keep moving, you'll only attract more attention. Please, stay very still." And she slowly stopped moving. The footsteps that were nearing suddenly stopped. A few seconds passed. Chandler gripped Tom's wrist tightly, her heart pounding. If she got caught like this with Tom, she would murder him-

The footsteps slowly started off in the other direction. Soon they were only a dull echo, but Tom wouldn't release Chandler. Only when the footsteps were long gone did he release her. She instantly pushed herself all the way to the other side of the hallway, leaning against the wall.

"I'm not going to lie," she said, her heart still pounding. "If you were anyone else, I would've bitten your hand."

Tom sighed, rubbing his temples. "I thought you were going to yell at me," he said, looking at the ground. "Most people would logically yell at someone who technically just abducted them."

"I understood your angle," she said. "After all, who wouldn't want to hide from someone who was lying about being your girlfriend?"

Tom looked up at her, and a small smile crept across his face. "So you saw through that?"

"I could tell she despised my very essence, just by the way she looked at me," Chandler said. "Like hell I was going to trust her." She mimicked his smile.

"So what were you searching for me for?" Tom asked, though he was only slightly interested. This was the first time Chandler sought him out, instead of trying to deliver help through some anonymous route.

"I have a gift for you," she said. She held out her hand, the small vial enclosed in her fist. He crossed the hallway, looking at her fist. Finally, he held out his hand underneath hers. She pressed her fist into his hand and opened it. And he was almost shocked at what he saw.

There, in his palm, was a vial of golden liquid. He almost instantly knew what it was. He looked up at Chandler, who was smiling. "How did you get this?" he asked.

"I won it in the competition," she said. "I checked to make sure it was what I thought it was." At his quizzical look, she said, "Don't worry, I didn't drink any."

He looked at the vial in his hand, then looked at Chandler. "I guess I owe you... again."

She smiled softly. "Do you **have **to? I mean, it's a gift."

Tom looked at the vial. "I guess you have a point." He closed his fist around it.

"Glad you see it my way," she said, smiling. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to catch what's left of the Quidditch match." Bowing, she ran back the way she came, and Tom watched her go. Then, he looked at the vial in his hand. He thought, at first, that Chandler was just a nuisance that would always be calling for his help and would prove no worth to him. Now he realized that maybe, just maybe, Chandler was more useful than he percieved...


	6. Chapter 6

**The Celebratory Mood**

"I can't believe it!" the strawberry-blonde-Chandler learned her name was Chastity-cried, dancing around in her Quidditch wear, dragging the other two boys-the shaggy-haired one being Seth and the brown-haired one being Robert-around with her as she danced. "Ravenclaw kicked major ass today!" She smiled at Chandler, who was sitting on the couch of the common room, watching her dance around.

It was long after dark, and most of the students had retired to bed. But Chastity, Chandler learned, was a very hyperactive girl who slept little and did a lot. And considering Seth was an insomniac, Robert was lazy, and Chandler had trouble sleeping, the three of them could stay up as long as Chastity could.

"And some of that kickass-ness is due to one Chandler Antoinette!" She leaned in front of Chandler and winked. "So, what'd you do with your prize, Shan?"

Chandler smiled softly. "I gave it to a friend."

"You mean," Seth murmured-for he never rose his voice above that of a low hum, very soothing-"you handed it over to Riddle."

Chastity looked at him. "Oh, that's riiiight," she said, skipping across the room. "Chandler's very first friend here at Hogwarts got **her** reward. Probably threatened it out of her."

"Tom's not like that," Chandler said, but she furrowed her eyebrows. Well, she only knew him through serendipity. And Chastity, Seth, and Robert were here long before Chandler was. They probably knew more about his behavior to others.

Robert looked at Chandler. "Tom Riddle's what you'd call a very intellectual guy."

Chastity snorted. "I'd say we call him a grade-A asshole!"

Seth sighed. "Remember when he hexed Kenzie Markson in DADA? The one time we decide to test spells and Riddle has to show off."

"Yeah, we never did figure out if Kenzie ever got out of that hysteria," Chastity murmured, biting her lip and frowning. "But we did end up figuring out that Tom invented that spell."

Robert shivered. "How long could we hear her screams down the halls? I heard they had to put a silencing charm on her, but she kept screaming even in silence."

"When they took it off, her lungs had given out," Chastity said, looking at Chandler. "So that's what Tom does to people _**he doesn't even know**_. Wait till you hear what he does to people he _**hates**_."

Chandler felt like spiders were creeping over her skin, and she shivered slightly. Tom, from what she heard so far, was someone who did things only for the sake of knowledge. He didn't care what it cost to others.

Suddenly, she heard more of Slughorn's words, her eyes glazing over and her finger straying over her lips.

_"Felix Felicis is powerful," Slughorn said. "It doesn't matter what you're doing; if your goal is to get it done, then Felix Felicis will make sure you do it with the best of luck. So if your aim is to pass a test, you will pass it. Or, if your goal is to hex someone for a certain period of time, it will make sure they cannot stand on their feet." Slughorn looked at Chandler gravely. "Use it sparingly. Felix Felicis is deadly when it gets in the wrong hands."_

_What have I done? _Chandler thought, biting on her fingertip. _I am such an idiot. _

When she looked up, Chastity was kneeling in front of her. "Shan," she said. "Tom Riddle has only ever had one enemy." She held up her finger.

"Sure, plenty of people have hated him," Robert continued, and Chandler looked at him. He was sitting on the back of a chair, feet resting in the seat of it, hunched over and staring into the fire with blank eyes, as if recalling something. "But only one person stood up to him."

"Her name was Belladonna King," Seth murmured. "She was a Gryffindor."

"Slytherins have the manditory hatred of Gryffindors, and vice versa," Chastity said. "So that was already a badly formed relationship."

"But what started it was Belladonna's gift of intuition," Robert said. "She could instantly tell Tom was a bad egg. So she went telling every new boy and girl that Tom Riddle was not to be trusted. And, sadly for Tom, everyone liked her enough to believe her."

"Tom was out of sorts after that," Seth murmured. "Unable to get his dirty work done with stronger, more level-headed people, like he used to, he set out to capture all the weaklings. But by the time he had his hands on only a few-a dozen, I would reckon-Belladonna King uncovered all his secrets and pointed him out to the public. Then, Tom had to do everything by himself."

"Oh-ho-ho, was Tom a wreck after that!" Chastity said dramatically. "He was jittery and angry, much unlike his normal, cool demeanor. He would lash out at unsuspecting people, and that only proved Belladonna's point. People moved so far away from him that he was powerless, and Tom Riddle feeds off of power."

"Nobody had ever reduced him to what he was back then," Robert said, frowning. "And it was scary."

"And, one night, Tom Riddle was breaking into the library to do some research," Seth murmured, his voice a little lower now. "And Belladonna was on his tail."

"Did she attack him?" Chandler asked, unable to hold her voice in now. She was curious as to what happened, but wanted them to continue.

"No, she didn't attack him, she just uncovered him," Seth murmured, voice still lower than usual. "But not before she found out what he was studying. In the break of day, in the middle of the hallway, she related her story to everyone, including what he was studying. Though few recognized the name of what it was, it sent a wave of discomfort through the crowd."

"Tom Riddle disappeared for a few days afterward," Chastity said. "And then Belladonna King disappeared. The next day, Tom Riddle returned."

"There was a rumor spread around that Belladonna King was a liar. Soon, everybody dismissed her disappearance, saying she wasn't to be trusted." Seth sighed, running a hand through his hair, and, for once, Chandler caught a glimpse of his eyes. A deep, forest green was set in his pale, bony face, but the veil of darkness dropped over his face once again, and Chandler felt shut out.

"Did anybody ever find her?" Chandler asked, her voice low and quivering.

"No," Chastity said. "But there are a few of us who still love her. Besides being a noble, brave girl-for she'd known of Tom Riddle for years, but never told him out until then-she was the greatest Gryffindor ever. She was fun, smart, and kind. She was all every Gryffindor first-year aspired to be."

"She was all **I **aspired to be, too," Robert said. "For who wouldn't want to be somebody who knew who they were, and who knew exactly what was on each side of the fine line between right and wrong?"

Chandler sighed, rubbing her face in her hands. "So Tom Riddle was restored to power afterwards, right?"

"Yeah," Seth murmured. "Tom Riddle took the weak and the strong alike when they were battered by her disappearance and lost. He came across as one with knowledge; steady ground in an earthquake. They were attracted to him like moths to shadow." Seth then stood up. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Without waiting for any reply, Seth ascended the stairs and went into his dorm. Chandler watched him go, concern creasing her brow, before looking back at Chastity and Robert.

"I thought he can't sleep at night," Chandler said, and Chastity smiled sadly.

"He can't," she replied. "He just wants to get away from here."

"Why?" Chandler asked, looking back up the stairs.

"Because Belladonna King was Seth's first girlfriend," Robert said softly. "And his sworn last."

Chandler looked at Robert and Chastity, but saw no expression on their faces. "I... I think I'm tired too," Chastity said, looking at Chandler and Robert. "Goodnight." She got up from her crouch and walked up the stairs. Robert nodded sadly to Chandler before following. Chandler watched them go and listened to their doors shut before looking back at the fire.

She watched the embers sputter and fly. She pulled off her robes, suddenly feeling a little too hot, and looked at her bare arms. Cuts, dashing across her skin boldly, broadly, mistaken for her own doing by many who know no less than to attract attention, adorned pale skin with a striking maroon that deeply resembled roses.

Sad about past events, both hers to witness and hers to miss, she pulled her knees close to her chest and bit her kneecaps, wrapping her arms around her shins and letting out a broken cry through her gritted teeth. She knew from the broken feeling inside her that there would be no sleep tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

**A Bitter Reprieve**

When Chastity woke up and stretched, she had a feeling that today would be a great day. She would dress, brush her teeth, dash past her roommates down the stairs and meet her friends-old and new alike-in the common room before they walked anywhere special; anywhere at all.

So when Chastity showered, dressed, brushed her teeth an dashed past her roommates down the stairs, she met the gazes of Robert Parson and Seth Andromede. Her own smile faded slightly and she knew this was a bad sign. Usually Seth would be blocking off pieces of paper that Robert would be flicking at him while Chandler would sit on the couch, reading some sort of book with her glasses on. But today, it was only Robert flicking paper at Seth, who simply raised his arm to block every time.

"Hey guys!" She greeted them cheerfully nevertheless, and Seth smiled a little smile while Robert waved. "Where's Shan?"

Robert's arm dropped abruptly. "We thought she was with you."

Chastity shook her head. "She's not with me."

Robert looked away, then looked back at Chastity, a small smile on his face. "Hey," he said. "Today's warmer than yesterday; warm enough to turn the snow into rain. Want to go outside for a bit?"

Chastity nodded, and they all dressed for cool weather. Then, meeting down in the Common Room again, they headed down the halls.

"Whaddya suppose we should do?" Chastity asked, looking around. "Ya know, once we get outside?"

"I dunno," Robert said. "Maybe we should build a snowman while the snow's still out."

"Well, we could sled," Seth murmured. "Considering the fact that it's raining outside."

"Is it really?" Chastity asked, and at his nod, she laughed. "You jinxed it, Robert!"

Robert blushed a little. "Nonsense. I can't jinx things." But he was smiling as he said this, his voice all serious. Chastity sent him a dazzling smile.

"Of course. Utter nonsense." She pushed the door open and they walked into the rain, making sure they didn't slip on the forming ice. There were many adventures waiting to be created out here, and Chastity was going to make sure they uncovered each of them.

Chandler didn't want to open her eyes, even when the rain pattered down coldly on her shoulders and she sniffled.

Sure, she was cold. Sure, she was pained. Sure, she had this gutteral feeling that if she didn't get her arm checked, she might get asked some serious questions.

She didn't care. She just kept focused on the situation at hand.

Chandler had walked out of the Common Room at the first sign of dawn, not wanting anyone to see her. She had swung her cloak around her shoulders as she burst out the door into the rain and had hastened down the walkway, trying to get to where nobody could see her. She was so hasty about it, in fact, that she slipped on the once-snow-now-ice and reopened a few wounds on her arm from the impact. Not to mention that she was still crying anyways, but that was beside the point. Chandler quickly found a small indent in the castle made for decorational purposes, and there she sat, like a statue, hunched over her crossed legs and cradling her injured arm. She finally just closed her eyes and hibernated; not really asleep, but not really awake.

Now that she felt she was finished hibernating, she didn't want to 'wake up'. She didn't want to see anybody standing there, staring at her as she hibernated in her little hole, her little niche in the castle. She didn't want to see her nightmares come true anymore. And all she had to do to avoid that was not open her eyes.

She knew she had to eventually. She just wouldn't right now.

She moved her arm slightly, feeling the crusty blood crack a little at the motion. She stopped moving it soon, deeming it unready to move without getting her wounds reopened. Again.

She heard a few noises, but she passed them off as the rain. Right now, she was too busy thinking about Belladonna King to have hallucinations. What did Tom do to her to make her disappear for so long? Maybe he petrified her. No, he didn't have that kind of power. Stupefication? No, the spell _Stupefy_ wears off after a few hours. _Petrificus Totalus_? Again, only a temporary spell. What if Tom didn't do anything to her?

She furrowed her eyebrows as another noise invaded her ears, but once again, she dismissed it, thinking it was the rain. Maybe Tom was innocent. But then, why didn't they talk about his claiming innocence? Because even if he was, Tom Riddle would never beg the public to change their minds about him. He was silent in his actions, in his thoughts, and left it to the people to guess what he was thinking.

Tom Riddle was quite the mystery, because Chandler guessed that every one of them got it wrong.

"Oh my God! Shan!"

Chandler nearly opened her eyes when she heard Chastity scream over the rain, but she dismissed it again as a hallucination. No, she just lost too much blood.

"We have to get help for her! We gotta- Wait, Chastity! Wait for us!"

She heard fast-paced footsteps, but ignored them again. Oh, come on, this was her mind only making her hear what she wanted; support, help, love. She just wanted someone to hold her. But right now, the only thing she'd be blessed with is-

"Miss Antoinette."

She opened her eyes. _Oh, fuck me, _she thought, looking at Tom Riddle, who was standing in front of her, impassive expression on his face. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Wow," she said. "You're one freaking impressive hallucination."

He grabbed her uninjured wrist. "We need to get you out of here. Now."

She looked at his hand. "Damn," she said. "I lost **way** too much blood." She then looked at him. "Unless you're real. Are you?"

"Yes," he replied, not letting go of her wrist.

She cocked her head. "Prove it." A determined smile crossed her lips, which were pale and drained of color.

He sighed and squeezed her wrist tightly, so tight that her blood was restricted from her hand and began to sting, like little ants. She pulled her hand away, and he let go without any struggle. She looked at him a few seconds. "Yeah, you've proved it. But... How did you get here? Unless you get up at ungodly hours in the morning or have a great sense of premonition, I doubt even you would be out in the rain."

He held up the small vial she recognized. "With a little bit of luck," he said, and he grabbed her wrist again, helping her down from the small cubby. She accepted his help gratefully and, not letting go of her wrist, pulled her towards a tree. Sighing, she followed him, swaying on her steps. Every time she moved, she got dizzier and dizzier. Tom reached into his pocket and said a spell, pointing at a tree that was moving. A moving tree? Chandler **really** needed to sit down.

Tom pulled her foward once again, and they descended down into a small hallway. Tom continued to pull her forward, up a set of stairs-_inside a tree... Breathe steadily, Chandler, just breathe_-and towards a room. He then pulled her towards a bed and set her down on it. She did the falling over part by herself.

"I'm going to have to stitch up your wounds," Tom said, pulling out his wand and setting up a few things with it. "A healing spell won't do too well. You're going to need to hold still, okay?"

Chandler laughed tipsily. "This is the first time I've heard you say the word 'okay'! Huh! How about that!"

Tom winced. "This is the first time you've been this loud." He then opened a small flask and dumped a teaspoon of something into it, closing it and shaking it. He then opened it and handed it to Chandler. "Drink this," he said. "It'll help. Drink it all."

And she did. She figured since it tasted bad, it would be good for her; make all the waves in the room slow down so her stomach would feel better. Or maybe vice versa. Once she was done, the flask fell to the floor and she began to breathe evenly.

Tom raised his wand, and a small needle followed with it. Then, looking at the needle, he sighed and lowered the needle to the table he'd set everything up on. Picking up a small bottle, he poured the contents over one hand and rubbed his hands together. He then picked up the needle with his hands and looked at it. He sighed again.

"I'm afraid the wand makes the needle waver in the air," he said. "I'll have to do it without magic."

"And can you?" Chandler asked, feeling herself sober up slowly. Her voice was lower, though, more soothing. "You know, without hurting me?"

Tom looked at her, face impassive again. "Yes. I can." With that, he sat next to her on the bed. "Take off your robe."

And she did. She slid it off her one arm, stiff with blood, and winced as she unstuck it from a few of her wounds. Then she laid there, feeling Tom Riddle's hand sweep over her arm, his analytical eyes taking in the damage done. Then, with the grace of a jaguar, he slowly began to work on her arm. She winced a few times, but she then noticed the pain faded, as did the feeling in the rest of her body. She wanted to ask questions, but kept her mouth shut, though, considering the fact that she'd rather keep her mouth shut and be thought stupid than open her mouth and prove it.

It felt like she was there for hours, Tom silently working on her arm and her silently taking in her predicament. It was likely that the hallucination she had before with Chastity and Robert screaming was actually real; that they probably sent for Madame Adams-the nursemaiden-and she'd really get an earful about that. Then there was also the startling fact that the man who got her into this mess in the first place was healing her.

Then her brain froze. He was **looking **at the cuts on her **exposed arms**. Bare arms. Cuts exposed. Tom Riddle working on them, noticing some were closed **a while ago**. But he wasn't asking questions. She felt herself slightly loosen up and small tears sting at her eyes. She was unable to stop them from rolling down her cheeks, and they did so, but they weren't tears of hurt or tears of sorrow; they were tears of relief. The most analytical person that she knew was staring at her secret shame and not saying a word about it.

"Can you feel anything?" he asked, and she glanced at him, his eyes still focused on her arms.

She noticed small stings coming from that area. "Mmhmm," she said aloud.

"A little or a lot?" he asked.

"Little," she replied, and he nodded.

"I'm almost done." She nodded this time. The sting of the needle was growing increasingly painful, but she ignored it, her tears slowing and stopping. Finally, Tom sat back, his eyes looking over her arm. "This should help them heal," he said. "Until then, I suggest you don't go running with scissors, Miss Antoinette." He looked at her eyes and gave a smirk. He got up and began to pack everything away. She laid there, watching him, unable to move much of her body. But her motor skills for her mouth were intact again.

"Mister Riddle," she said, and he looked at her. "D-do you want to know where I got these cuts? Surely you must've noticed they weren't from today."

Tom looked at her, something unknown in his eyes. "I figure it isn't my place to know." Then he looked away, his voice slightly changing. "Don't tell me for the sake of my curiosity, rather, tell me because you're ready to reveal to me what has battered you so." He looked at her again, and that unknown something was still there. "Can you move?"

She twitched her body. "Slightly," she said. "What was it you made me drink?"

"Calming Draught mixed with some Numbing Powder," Tom replied, closing up a small bag he'd carried the needle and other necessities in. "You weren't going to sit still even if I had asked you."

Silence ensued. Tom stared at the floor, then finally looked at her. "I never got to say..." He trailed off, looking at the floor again.

She slowly sat up, feeling the blood rush from her head to the rest of her body, and she hung it low, her hair falling in front of her face. "Never got to say what?" she murmured, trying to regain full consciousness.

Tom sighed. "I never got to say thank you for the Felix Felicis," he said. "So... thank you."

She looked at Tom, her eyes wide. "Tom Riddle, I don't know what you've been smoking, but you need to use a little less of it in the morning." He raised a quizzical eyebrow, smirking, and she could tell he found it amusing. "Never once had I suspected you'd tell me 'thank you'." She laid back down on the bed. "Maybe I **have **lost too much blood."

"As a matter of fact, you did," Tom said, and she glanced up at him. "So much so that I had to add a bit of ingredients to your drink to thicken your blood. You might feel a little warm for a while, but that's just how it works."

"Great," she murmured, hitting her head on the headboard on purpose and closing her eyes. "Not only have you mended me on your own accord, said 'thank you', and let me keep to myself what I keep to myself, you're also poisoning me. That explains a **lot**."

Tom laughed a little, and she opened her eyes to look at him. Never once had he laughed in front of her, and now that he had, she felt herself slightly smiling too. Such a small, clear laugh was one that was easy to laugh along to; but Tom always hid it, never once setting it free. Why was it that he hid a laugh so perfect as the one his lips could create?

She silenced the voice in her head. She had no idea what she was thinking these things for anyway. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tested her weight on them, one at a time. Deeming herself at least ready to walk and look merely drunk, she stood up fully. Then, she turned to Tom.

"Now if I fall," she said. "Do **not **catch me."

"Why?" Tom asked.

"You've already been too weird today," she said. "If you do one more nice thing to me I'm probably going to pass out."

Tom shrugged. "Fair enough." With that, he began to walk out the door, Chandler following slowly.

Through small hallways they walked back, Chandler noticing that everything she 'hallucinated' was real. Now she didn't doubt one bit that Chastity had found her outside. She shuddered at the thought of what reprimand awaited her.

"Are you cold?"

Chandler looked up from her stare at the floor to see Tom staring right back at her. His gaze was stoic, as usual.

After a moment, Chandler nodded. It was, indeed, cold in there. No doubt because there was snow outside. And her robe was damp with blood, which made it nonefficient in keeping her warm.

She closed her eyes a minute and breathed out, trying to make herself warmer. She felt a little cold breeze and shivered, but felt something fall around her shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked up at Tom; he'd swung off his robe and wrapped it around her shoulders. "This should keep you warm for as long as we're out here."

She narrowed her eyes. "What did I tell you about being nice?"

He shrugged. "I tend not to listen to people anyway." He turned and continued walking out, walking up a damp set of steps made of stone, and she followed, anxious to what awaited her outside.

Upon arrival to Hogwarts once again, she heard nothing but the peaceful patter of drops of rain and a few winter crows cawing viciously into the morning. The air was chilled, just as before, though a few holes appeared in the clouds, raining down speckles of light upon the ground. This serene silence lasted only for a bittersweet minute, for when she heard her name called, she knew all hell would be brought to her.

"Chandler!" cried Chastity and she ran towards her, but stopped short when she noticed who was leading her. Tom looked at Chastity just as he would anybody else; silently analytical. That put Chastity off guard, for she came no closer than the 7 feet between them.

Seth, however, was bold. He moved toward Chandler and didn't stop, nor spare a glance at the man beside her. "You okay, Chandler?" he murmured, looking at her pale face and bloody hands.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, and though she wanted to, she didn't look at the time. She would leave no room for insinuation; things were bad enough as it was.

"What happened?" Seth murmured inquiringly, and she answered the whole truth and nothing but.

"I slipped and fell on the ice while it was raining," she said. "I reopened a few wounds. After you came and tried to get help for me, Tom came and healed me." She looked at Tom and bowed slightly. "Thank you."

Chastity regained her voice. "Utter rubbish," she said angrily, looking at Tom accusingly. "She's just covering up for him! This stupid blighter has to ruin everything, doesn't he?" She looked to Chandler. "Shan," she said. "You don't have to cover up for him. You can rat him out! Don't be scared of what he'll do to you, it's nothing compared to what the headmaster will do to him! Just tell us the truth, Chandler."

Chandler looked honestly at Chastity and said, very quietly, "I did." Then, she brushed past them softly, and ended the conversation.

Robert burst outside with Madame Adams, and, upon seeing the blood on her, tugged her to the hospital wing to get sterilized. But before Chandler stepped foot inside the door-

"Miss Antoinette."

She turned to look at him, and Madame Adams' tugging ceased momentarily. "Yes, Mister Riddle?"

He looked at her levelly. "You're very welcome."

She nodded, and once again, she was pulled inside the castle.

Chastity whipped her head to look at Tom, anger distorting her face. "I don't know what you've done to her," she spat. "But whatever it is, I swear, I'll find out. And when I do, you'll be sorry, you bastard." Then she stormed inside, Robert following. Seth sent one last glance at Tom before stalking inside as well, leaving the savior to stand alone in the cold.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Smile of a Sinner**

Chandler was woozy. She had to drink some extra blood thickeners and go through a few tests, have a quick shower, become sterilized, wait an hour, then have another shower. She was tired of all the prepping and testing and, what was worse, the constant moving tugged at her stitches.

"What a helpful boy he is, that Tom Riddle," cried Madame Adams as she watched Chandler force down another cup of blood thickener. "Those stitches were exactly what you needed! A little unorthodox to do them in such an unsterile place, but very helpful!"

Chandler barely listened to anything Madame Adams said and just ran through the tests in a melancholy state. The least she could do is have a book to read while she was waiting, but no, 'pressure on your arm is bad' and 'you'll make Tom angry if you reopen them', to which Chandler nearly replied Tom Riddle didn't give a damn if she was in pain, the Felix Felicis did. He wouldn't come to her aid on his own accord, even if she were catching fire and falling from a five-hundred foot tall cliff with sharks awaiting nice smoked human below. But all she could do now was nod, because anything else she wanted to do would break open her stitches.

Besides, she was too busy thinking to pay attention or carry out meaningless plans to get peace. Why had the Felix Felicis led Tom to her? She'd seen the vial; it was seven eighths of the way full. So he actually did drink it. But what was he looking for if it meant leading him to her? She was confused.

_"Felix Felicis helps you get what you want," Slughorn said. "Even in the most unorthodox of ways. One time, I wanted to see this student of mine more often, but she was so busy with Quidditch that I couldn't reach her," he said. "So I made myself a bit of liquid luck and drank it, and watched her latest Quidditch game. She got hit by a bludger and fell a few feet to the ground. Her arm was broken and she couldn't play Quidditch for weeks. But I got to see her more often; visiting her in the hospital wing. So Felix Felicis will get what you want done, but it will do it under its own terms."_

Chandler felt rather annoyed that every time she had a question, Slughorn would pop up in her head and answer. He wasn't even her favorite professor, either. But he had a point. Felix Felicis had this odd way of doing things in it's own time, quite like a procrastinator who will get things done, but to an extent. Maybe Tom needed advice on the Felix Felicis, but instead of going to Slughorn, it took him to her? No, if he needed advice on it, he wouldn't use it to go and find her. Maybe he was doing something that involved a partner? Again; he'd use the Felix Felicis to get it done alone.

She sat there puzzling it and thinking it over until finally her brain cells cried rape and arrested her. And so her thoughts of anything further in the situation were sitting in a lonely cell crying about how they knew the answers, but they needed to test them. To make the explanation to what this meant for Chandler's physical being as short as possible, Chandler suddenly passed out.

Tom couldn't remember the last time he had been spying like this. Though, due to the situation, he couldn't really consider it 'spying', more or less... 'supervising'. Basically, he wanted to see if the stitches he'd given Chandler were torn off or not. If they were, well, he'd basically reapply them to her arms and be on his merry way. Cuts as deep as those needed force to heal, and forcing her cuts closer together let them get in contact, which resulted in smoother progress with healing.

But he noticed they weren't cut off; and also noticed she magically passed out. He peeked into the room; Madame Adams was out of sight. He stepped inside the large doors and pressed them nearly-closed behind him. He walked quietly to her, looking at all the potions and such around her bed. He examined a few and smelled a few others; he instantly identified modified novacaine without having to smell it; and instantly knew what was going on. Madame Adams' main goal was to thicken her blood to a reasonable level until her blood production matched that of her loss. He nodded approvingly, then looked at the patient herself. Her long brown hair was swept back over the pillow, her pale skin whiter with the loss of blood. Her eyes were closed peacefully and her breathing was shallow but even. Her sleep was light. He'd have to be careful to not wake her.

He didn't want her to know he was there. But why was he taking so many precautions to avoid her seeing him here, yet help her? He didn't know. The only one who knew this had more than one secret. And they'd never tell.

Tom looked at Chandler's arms, resting over the covers of the bed; thin and pale, yet semi-muscular, her arms were marred with cuts and scars that would never go away. And the stitches were helping nicely; one cut was healing perfectly, he could see by how it stopped bleeding as much. He smirked at his work; was he ever wrong?

She stirred slightly, and Tom froze, looking at her face. Her eyebrows knitted in the middle and a frown crossed her face. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and let out a small whine, but soon her face was completely calm again. A small smile crossed her lips and she sighed in her sleep. Tom sighed of relief and looked around. He ought to flee the scene before Madame Adams came back.

He stepped lightly towards the door and opened it. Sending one last glance back at his charge, he walked out the room and closed the door.

Madame Adams stepped out of the shadows and looked at the door before looking at Chandler with a soft smile.

Tom sighed as he sat down at the Slytherin table. It was around 7 o'clock; the sun had set and dinner was about to be served. He put his hand in his pocket and gripped onto the small vial there. It comforted him to know he had power on his side.

"Hey, Tom!" Gloria's voice cried, and he felt like squeezing the vial so it exploded over his hands. But he refrained and looked up at Gloria with a stoic look plastered on his face.

The platinum-blonde ringlets were blinding in the light of the evening, and her smile was bright. "Where were you this morning? I was looking all over for you and I couldn't find you! I was hoping we could study together for our Potions test this Friday. What do you think?"

Did the girl ever give him time to respond? Despite his mental bashing, he sighed and pretended he'd just paid attention. "I don't think so, Gloria," he said. "I have"-he gripped the vial for personal emphasis-"things I need to get done. Maybe some other time."

Her smile faded slightly. "Alright," she said, and he went back to focusing on other things. But she still stood there by the table, her gaze fixed on his face. He finally looked at her; her face showed personal worry.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked against his own will.

She sighed roughly and looked away, her curls bouncing to face the same way her face was. Then, she looked back at him. "Yes, something's bothering me. Do you..." she trailed off, her mouth open. "Are..." she sighed roughly. Tom was slightly amused, yet slightly befuddled. Gloria had never shown him confusion or lack of confidence before. Those were emotions he severely doubted she could eminate. Finally, she sucked in a large breath. "Is it because you're going to study with Chandler?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Is the reason you're not studying with me because you're studying with her?" She was sheepish, her eyes not meeting his. She was seriously worried he was going to study with Chandler. He didn't understand what was going on.

"No," he said. "Why, do **you** want to study with her?" Was it about getting points with Slughorn?

"No!" she said too quickly for it to be a simple answer. "I just..." she sighed. "I'm gonna go." With that, she turned and left.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the table. He had no idea what that was about.

The doors to the hall opened and Tom looked up from his gaze at the table; Chandler walked to the Ravenclaw table, accompanied by Chastity O'Dell, Seth Andromede and Robert Parson. He watched as they walked, Chastity in front, Robert to Chandler's left and Seth behind her. It was as if they were guarding her. Why would she need to be guarded?

Chastity looked at Tom and gave a hateful glare. _Oh. Never mind that, then._

He gazed stoically back. She looked away abruptly and sat Chandler down at the table so her back was facing Tom. Then Chastity sat across from her, facing Tom. _So she can keep her eye on me._

Seth sat next to Chastity, while Robert sat next to Chandler. From this, he could deduce that all three of them were in on the whole 'guarding' thing, but only Seth and Chastity were fully in on it. They were in sync, one of them watching Tom while the other would talk to Chandler and act as if nothing was wrong. It was apparent, what they were doing. From now on, getting to Chandler was going to be a problem.

He looked at his pocket. He didn't need Chandler anymore, anyways. She was just a pawn to get what he wanted. Just like Gloria was. Just like everyone else was.

He listened to the chattering of people until the headmaster called for attention. He looked up at him. Today would be the end of these unexpected visits to Chandler Antoinette. This he vowed.


	9. Chapter 9

Be Careful...

It was the middle of dinner. Chandler got up abruptly from the table and stormed out of the room, her arm wrapped tenderly in medical tape. Chastity followed her.

"Shan, wait!" she yelled, but Chandler was headed for a door which lead to the courtyard. "Chandler!"

Chandler whipped around to face her. Anger contorted her once calm features. "For the last time, Chastity, Tom didn't hurt me! I slipped on the ice and opened a few wounds, then Tom gave me stitches to heal them! So **stop guarding me**!"

Chastity looked at Chandler sadly. "Why do you keep telling us that? Why can't you confide in us? You don't have to be afraid of him! We're the good guys!"

"Why can't you believe me?" Chandler retorted. "Why can't you see the good in people? Oh, so one thing happens to Belladonna King, a woman who provoked Tom, and you suddenly convict him of a crime there was no proof he did! Suddenly he's not a good person, is that it? Suddenly this man, who might as well be innocent, is just evil all around? As far as I'm concerned, Chastity O'Dell, you **are** the bad guys."

Chastity was frozen in place, staring at Chandler with big eyes. Chandler turned around and headed out the door. Chastity did not follow her.

Chandler closed the door behind her and turned to face the dark outside of the castle. She felt frustration release itself in every breath she let loose. She sighed and rubbed her temples. Why couldn't Chastity believe her story? Was it because of what Tom supposedly did? Or had she hated him beforehand?

She sighed again and looked out into the darkness. She took a few steps out into the cold air and pulled her robe closer to herself. Walking along the stone path, she headed farther away from the solace and warmth the building cast over her into the dull melancholy of the winter air. She looked up at the sky; dark clouds covered the canopy of the sky and the light of the moon. As soon as she stepped out of range of the castle's light, she'd have to make due in darkness.

She needed a walk anyways, regardless of the conditions. She needed to get away from the steam of Chastity, Seth, and Robert's suspicions of Tom's wanting anything to do with her, along with Tom's history and his unnerving ability to show up at the most opportune moments.

Chandler stepped off the stone path and into a dark forest. She needed to unfog her mind.

Walking amongst tall and thick trees, she began to truly melt into her thoughts. Chastity was paranoid all because of Belladonna King's disappearance, as was Seth, but he had reason; she was his girlfriend. He had a special connection to her. And if Tom was **her** enemy, then he was Seth's enemy too. But Chastity was just off her nut about it. She couldn't give Tom two chances. She wondered vaguely why. Robert liked Belladonna King, but he wasn't so uptight about her protection from Tom as Chastity was. Maybe she had some sort of disorder that made it hard for her to let go of people. Seperation Anxiety?

And what of Tom? He hadn't denied nor proved any of the claims he was the one to do away with Belladonna. She had gone over this earlier, deeming him too unrelenting to give anything away. But she still felt a chill when she saw his face as cold as it normally was; a face like that could hide many secrets. Maybe he had gotten rid of Belladonna King...

Tom had that uncanny ability to catch Chandler when she was weak or out of practice, when her guard was down and relaxed. When he could get information out of her. He was using her, this she knew; getting him Felix Felicis and whatnot, along with information. Maybe that was his plan from the beginning. To just use her and toss her aside. She didn't doubt it. As much as it hurt to think about it, Tom had probably only used her for information purposes. He doesn't think of people as people. He thinks of them as tools.

Maybe he used Belladonna beforehand, and that's the straw that broke the camel's back. She was an unwilling tool, and was lashing back at his forceful commands. Maybe he got rid of her because not only was she going to ruin his current plan, but was going to ruin everything, maybe give away plans long past, long over with, yet still threatening...

Chandler chewed her lip. That begged the question... What had Tom done that was so secretive he had to make someone disappear to protect it?

A loud caw sounded out as feathers fluttered by, and Chandler jumped, looking around and watching the winter crows fly away. She sighed, putting a hand over her thudding heart. The crows caught her off guard. For a minute there, she thought it was someone-

"Hhhhheeeeeehhhh..."

Chandler looked around, her heart pounding wildly, her eyes wide. She was shaking violently. "Who's there?" she asked.

"Hhhhhheeeeeeeeeehhhhhlllhhh..."

Chandler looked around, hearing a twig snap. She gasped, her heart ricocheting off of her ribcage. She swore she was going to have a heart attack. "Chastity?" she asked, her voice quiet and feeble.

"..."

The sound was airy; scratchy and ancient. It was as if they hadn't had water in a long time. "Chastity," Chandler said. "If you're trying to get back at me for what I said, this isn't the right way to do it." Another twig sounded. They were getting closer. _Oh, God, _she thought, still looking around. She gripped her robe at the clasp by her throat. "T-Tom?"

"Hhhhhheeeeeeehhhhhllllllppppp..."

Chandler just barely made out the word that was said, and she saw a shadow moving slowly towards her. The body was feminine; they were leaning weakly against a tree. Long hair fell down to their mid-thigh in two pigtails atop their head. Chandler's heart nearly stopped. "W-What?" she whispered almost inaudibly.

"Hhhelllp..." they said, and they began to fall. Unconsciously, Chandler rushed forward and slid on the ground, catching them in her arms and scraping her knees. She let out a whine at the pain that shot up her injured arm, but juggled them so that they were laying in her lap with their head resting on her good one.

"Hey," Chandler said, her heart still pounding. "Are you awake?"

They nodded softly, their dirty hair rubbing against her robe. They smelled of dirt, mud, and blood; a putrid stench. Chandler turned her head slightly, but was used to the blood smell, and looked back at her.

"What happened to you?" she asked, avoiding breathing in deeply so she didn't inhale the scent coming off of her.

They stuttered over their words, trying to form coherent sentences, but Chandler stroked their hair and shushed them softly. "It's okay," she said, using the same tactics Dumbledore used on her to calm her down after a time of crisis. "You can tell me when you feel better. We need to get you to the castle. Can you stand?"

They nodded slowly, and Chandler began to stand, pulling them up with her. She looped one of their arms over her neck and held on to it, the smell overwhelming her. She pulled her other arm around their waist and pulled them close to her. Their body was pressing into her, and she grunted slightly at carrying most of their weight. They tried to apologize, stuttering over the 's' to start the word 'sorry', but Chandler quieted them.

"No need apologizing for something that you didn't cause," Chandler said, but they hung their head after she said that. Chandler experimentally took a step, and they took a step too, slightly taking on their weight. Chandler slowly developed a comfortable pace with them as they walked back through the forest. Chandler barely recalled which way she'd come from, but the stranger on her arm seemed to know which way to go and led them back through the forest.

Finally, they saw the orange light of the castle through the forest. Chandler quickened her pace on account that the other had sped up upon seeing the light. As soon as they got to the stone path, their pace slowed once again, as if leaving the forest was all they wanted to do. In the orange light, Chandler could see the girl clearly: she had blonde hair in two pigtails down to her mid-thigh, deep blue eyes, and was wearing a black and white dress that looked like an everyday dress someone would wear back when times were slightly fancier. Chandler pulled towards the school once again and opened the door. They stumbled inside, the girl tripping over the step in the door. Together, they fell to the floor, Chandler letting out a loud groan because she landed on her arm. The girl laid on the floor, panting heavily.

Footsteps sounded from the Hall, and a few people stepped outside of it, but Chandler kept to the floor, biting her lip to keep from screaming and slowly moving her arm from underneath her.

"Chandler!" Chastity's voice cried, and her foosteps came towards her, but then stopped abruptly. "Oh my God..."

"What is it?" Robert's voice asked, but then he, too, froze. "Holy shit!"

Chandler flipped herself over to look up at them; she grit her teeth at the pain and looked at Chastity, who was looking back and forth between Chandler and the mystery girl. Robert was staring at the mystery girl alone, and so was Seth. But the last person in the hall, besides them, was staring at Chandler with wide eyes and a look of surprise on his face.

Tom Riddle.

Seth moved forward, kneeling next to the girl and looking at her. Then, he looked at Chandler, brushing his hair back. "Chandler..." he said.

Chandler turned to look at him. His hair was drawn from his eyes, showing the forest green again.

"Do you realize what you've done?" he asked. She almost spoke, but then remembered there was a scream blocked off in her throat. She only looked at him.

He continued, seeing her apparent pain. "You just brought us a miracle. This girl you found..." He looked down at her; she was gazing up at him, her mouth open in surprise. "It's Belladonna."

Chandler looked at the girl, and the girl looked at her; and suddenly Chandler realized the magnitude of what she did, and how a simple conquest to solve a mystery within herself brought up the answer of a mystery beyond her true comprehension. How she was truly a motherlode of serendipity and bad-good fortune.

She suddenly realized another thing, too; the magnitude of how much she wanted to commit suicide now.

"Chandler," Chastity said, breaking her from her epiphany. "Your arm..."

Chandler looked down at her arm; it was bleeding, blood seeping into the bandage.

She groaned and hit her head harshly against the floor. Footsteps sounded and quickly she was picked up from the floor in strong arms.

"Hold it a second, Riddle-"

"She needs medical attention," Tom replied, and Chandler felt her body freeze as she remembered, very vaguely, a dream-like memory, far off in her mind...

_Thank you, Tom... I must admit, she's quite scared. Would you mind carrying her into my office for me?_

_Not at all, sir._

Her eyes widened as suddenly a few things clicked in her mind...

_What happened to her?_

_That is a story for another time._

She gasped slightly, going into her own mind as Tom and Chastity carried out an external conflict...

_I will stay up tonight to take care of her._

_Wouldn't you prefer I do it?_

_No, I've already asked too much of you tonight, Tom..._

Her body stiffened as their voices raised to yells...

_Mister Riddle, do you want to know where I got these cuts? Surely you must've noticed they weren't from today._

_I figure it isn't my place to know. Don't tell me for the sake of my curiosity, rather, tell me because you are ready to reveal what has battered you so._

And finally, it all made sense...

_Her parents were both Muggles. Or, so they assumed. Truthfully, her mother was a witch who'd never really gotten in touch with her wizarding side. This very night, she was attacked by a few rogue wizards who'd broken out of Azkaban somehow. They killed her and her father, and then used Crucio on the poor girl until she couldn't tell good from evil. Her brother had burst into the room the same time I did- wielding a wand, no less- and tried to kill them using the forbidden curse. They beat him to it, of course, and killed him where he stood. I had to take care of them myself... I tied them up and took her away. Discovering she was a witch, I took her here._

Everything, the yelling and her memories, internal and external, went silent as she recalled five vital words:

_Speak of this to nobody._

And he didn't. Tom didn't speak of Chandler to anybody.

Including Chandler herself.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Music Inside of You**

**(Hoo-rah for chapter ten. ^.^ I'm glad I've gotten so far on this; and it's 89KB, no less. Not too big for some of those greater writers out there, but for a mediocre writer like me, that examplifies hard work.)**

Chandler stayed in the hospital wing with Belladonna for a week and a half. During that time, Chandler's arm was required to completely heal and Belladonna was being cured of her pneumonia and shock. During that time, Chandler got plenty of visitors, like Chastity and Robert (and on occasion Seth, considering his long-lost girlfriend suddenly turned up), and a few professors, too, like Slughorn and Dumbledore. But the one person Chandler wanted to visit her never turned up.

Tom Riddle never showed up by her bedside. She never got to ask him questions and he never got to answer. She never got to figure herself out. During her whole period in the hospital wing, she kept her mouth shut. She drank and she ate but never once did she speak.

She stayed up for nights at a time figuring and calculating, until Madame Adams began giving her sedatives to make her sleep, and even then, it was iffy. Sometimes she would wake up and stay awake until the sedatives kicked back in.

In the day, she was jumpy. In the night, she was restless. Chandler never found peace at any time.

When Chandler and Belladonna were released from the hospital wing, Madame Adams gave Chastity sedatives to give Chandler if she stayed up too late in the night.

"Now," Madame Adams said with some finality. It was just she and the girls, Belladonna and Chandler, and was sending them back to their dormitories to spend the rest of the day. It was already late in the afternoon. "I hope to see you two often, though not as patients," she said. "Take it easy for the rest of the day." Belladonna nodded, while Chandler merely blinked. They turned and walked out the room.

Belladonna and Chandler walked side-by-side in silence for a while. Finally, after a while of mere glances at Chandler, Belladonna spoke.

"I know this is the first time we've really talked," Belladonna said in a spirited yet quaint voice, not quite as soft as Chandler's, but tender still. "And I don't want it to go the wrong way. So I shall start with my thanks for recovering me from the forest."

Chandler looked at the slightly-taller Belladonna and nodded. "Not a problem," she spoke for the first time in a week and a half.

Belladonna seemed to hesitate on her next words. "I'm chosing my next words carefully," she said, and Chandler nodded. She had no lack of patience; she could wait. Finally, Belladonna sighed. "I noticed you were swept away by Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle, of all people," she said, letting out a soft chuckle, as if she found it hard to believe.

Chandler looked ahead and nodded. "I find it hard to believe myself," she said. "But why do you note that?"

She hesitated. "It's just that..." she trailed off. After a while of silence, she recovered. "You seem rather close with him."

Chandler let out a bitter laugh. "If you deduced he's close to me, you're wrong. How else could you explain his not being by my bedside while I was recovering?"

"Tom was never one to announce what he is feeling," Belladonna said. "Even in an abstract way. He makes you guess. Only when you ask him and there's no way out will he give you a direct answer."

Chandler looked at Belladonna, but her gaze was fixed on the floor. She was biting her lip and furrowing her eyebrows. She knew a lot about her enemy. Of course she would remember. The best way to defeat your enemy is to study their habits. Belladonna was smart; she obviously did so.

She finally looked back up at Chandler. "So," she said. "You're saying you're not close to Tom in any way."

"No way at all. He doesn't even glance my way twice."

"Then why did he give you stitches?"

Chandler looked directly at Belladonna's eyes. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"Seth said that you told him Tom gave you stitches to heal your wounds." Chandler looked at the ground. So the only one who believed her story about Tom was...

She looked back at Belladonna. "It's a matter of potionery and luck. It was just my luck he came and got me. Had he not found me I would probably be pushing daisies."

Belladonna's eyes widened. "You were dying?" Her voice was fragile and scared, as if she were a child hearing a scary story.

"I was bleeding like a stuck pig," Chandler replied evenly. "There was nobody there to save me. I was having hallucinations and dizzying severely. Chances are, had I never been found, I would definitely be severely ill, probably dead." She gave Belladonna an even stare. "He could've easily left me."

"But he didn't."

Chandler began to walk forward again. "Apparently, he's not done using me yet."

Belladonna walked to catch up with Chandler. "And you're okay with that? Being used?" Her voice was determined.

"There's no use changing him. This is what he's known his whole life."

"But we can stop him!" Belladonna said. "Imagine the welfare of our generation if we stopped his using people and started cooperation!"

"It would be pointless to try. Tom's firm in his beliefs, regardless of whether or not they're sound. He won't yield to anyone."

Belladonna stepped in front of Chandler. "We could change Tom! His brilliance is acceptable to everybody, and if we convert him to cooperation, everybody will benefit!" There was a steady firmness in her eyes, determination in her voice. She would not back down. All these things about her...

Chandler didn't like her.

Chandler glared at her. "Trying to get Tom Riddle to convert to cooperation would be like getting a lion to eat nothing but greens," she said firmly, her voice dark. "It would be like getting a hurricane to plant trees. You can't change nature, Belladonna. Nor can you change the nature of Tom Riddle." She nodded curtly and began to the Ravenclaw dormitories, leaving Belladonna in the halls. She was done with this conversation. She flew through the halls, irritated.

Upon arriving in the common room, she saw Chastity, Seth, and Robert sitting around a table playing a game with a mini-moving tree and luggage. The small tree whipped around, and the three of them tried poking at luggage with their wands. Chandler noticed Seth had his hair pulled out of his face and pulled behind his head with a rubber band. Chastity looked up from the game as Robert poked at a tennis bag and smiled. "Hey, Shan!" she said. "Want to play some Whomping Willow with us?"

Chandler shook her head and headed for the stairs. "I need to think on things." If she got away quick enough, maybe she wouldn't explode on Chastity.

"Things like what, Shan?" Chastity asked, her voice concerned.

Chandler felt her irritation boil ever-so-closely to her limits. "Just stuff."

"Like what?"

Chandler was halfway up the stairs when she looked directly at Chastity and said, "Exactly how sane Belladonna King really is." With that, she stormed up the rest of the stairs. She almost blurted out the worst, but had kept it in check. Having Chastity mad at her for this small insult was a small enough price to pay compared to what she would've said had she been any angrier.

She would've said she was thinking on throwing Belladonna King back in the forest again.

Storming into her room, she trotted to her bed and laid down on it. She felt tears sting at her eyes as she began to think back to what Belladonna had said.

_And you're okay with that? Being used?_

Truthfully, no, she wasn't, but she wasn't a nonconformist like Belladonna, either. She would accept her being used and not lash back, but she wouldn't enjoy it.

She sighed. She remembered a time when using Chandler Antoinette was not something anybody ever dreamed of because of Victor Antoinette's defensiveness. How Victor taught her how life was full of many unexpected things, and how all you needed to do was close your eyes and wish for a little bit of magic, and suddenly everything would be better.

Well, Chandler was stuck in a world of magic and she'd never felt so wrong in her whole life.

Looking out the window from her bed, she looked at the sky; a small hole was poked in the canopy of clouds, revealing a sky-blue she was used to. Tears pricked at her eyes and literally stung as she recalled long afternoons on swingsets, listening to stories of goblins and railroads 3/4 of the way full, ogres and giants and teachers that could transform and monsters that lived in the woods. A world of magic, weaved for her by her big brother. Never once did she imagine that these tales he told were chronicles of his real life.

_"Do you think these things are real, brother?" she asked, swinging higher on the orange swingset. "All these stories you tell me?"_

_Victor looked up to the sky and smiled brightly, looking back at his younger sister. "Nope," he replied. "I know they are." She smiled back at him._

She turned over in her bed and placed her face in her pillow. The tears were falling gracefully now. Squeezing her eyes shut, she layed there, sobbing slightly and waiting for the mental storm to pass. And, for the first time, Chandler fell asleep on her own, for in her dreams she could wait out the storm and not feel so alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thin Ice**

Chandler wasn't at dinner.

That was the one thing Tom Riddle regretted noticing. The moment Chastity and the others walked in without Chandler, his mind was abuzz, but he ignored them all and looked at his plate. He needed new... information, and the one person he could most likely bribe it out of wasn't there to collect.

And after dinner, he didn't see her in the halls. That unnerved him, too, considering the fact that he'd noticed it and that she was punctual. He decided to just ignore it. He walked through the halls, watching as the population dwindled down to nothing. He was soon one of the few to walk the halls as students began to settle down for the night.

He walked dangerously close to the Gryffindor halls. He glanced at the staircase that ascended towards their portrait for only a moment before heading down the halls.

After a while of walking, he found he was one of the only ones to be awake. The others wandering the halls were in their own little worlds, either couples making the most of the night or strangers meeting for a rendezvous.

Or Belladonna King.

"You've no need to persue me any longer," he said dully. "I doubt severely I've done anything to provoke you this time."

She approached from ahead of him, walking out of the shadows calmly. "I didn't follow you to spy on you."

He raised an eyebrow. "No? Because I can recall you following me previously for those reasons you just denied. Tell me, for what invisible reason are you following me tonight?"

"I want to ask on the welfare of my friend."

He cocked his head. "Your friend?"

"Yes." She kept her gaze level. "You've come in contact with her many times."

"And who would this 'friend' be?"

"Chandler Antoinette."

Tom looked at the ground. "I know not of the welfare of your 'friend'," he recovered, looking back up at her. "I haven't seen her around." He caught himself slightly, but she fixed his mistake for him.

"Not that you've been looking," she snarled. "I just want to know what you've done to her."

"Done to her?"

"Yes. She's a sad girl. She's given up all hope. And I know you have something to do with it." She glared at him through the darkness. Only the moonlight fueled his sight of her.

Tom grinned cynically. "I simply use people's abilities to my advantage, I don't devour their hearts, King," he said. "You're acting as if I sucked out her soul."

"Do you need to be a Dementor to do so? Or do you just need to be cruel?" she challenged, a grin on her face to match his.

He laughed sardonically. "I haven't altered Chandler, merely used her wits to my advantage. Everything else that's happened to her, she's done on her own." He turned and began to walk away.

"So she gave herself stitches, is that it?"

He froze, then turned to her. "Pardon?"

She smirked. "So she gave herself those stitches?"

Tom closed his eyes. Then, he opened them. "No, I gave those to her."

"Why?"

Again, his eyes closed. He tried to gather himself. "Because I was told to."

"By who? Dumbledore? Slughorn? Nobody knew she was outside that morning, Riddle."

He sighed. "It was a matter of luck."

Belladonna scoffed. "Both you and she told me that. 'It was a matter of luck'. Well, what the hell does that mean?"

"It means if I hadn't found her, she'd be-"

"Pushing daisies, I know!" Belladonna's voice rose in frustration. "I want to know **how** you found her! I want to know how and **why**!"

Tom sighed. "You should ask somebody who knows all the answers." He turned and began walking away.

"Tom!" she called to him, but he kept his back to her, walking ahead. He wouldn't be brought back to the last time he communicated with her. Every argument started like this, but ended...

He sighed. The light of the moon led him through the halls. He would return to his room and stay there for the rest of the night.

Trotting down the halls with speed and fervor, Tom reached in his pocket for reassurance. If Belladonna decided to follow him, he would 'find a way' to avoid her. It was almost too easy.

Turning a corner, he stopped abruptly and walked backwards into the corner, hidden by the shadows with the aid of his cloak. Down this long stretch of hall, the walls were stone, a stairway at the end of it. A large window sat on the right side of it, bursting in moonlight from the clearing clouds. And, leaning against the sill, breathing air onto the glass and tracing pictures in the fog, was Chandler.

She wasn't wearing one of her robes over her clothes, for once. She was wearing her Ravenclaw button-up and a pair of black slacks. Her glasses were sitting next to her elbow on the sill. Their case was right next to it.

Running her fingers through her hair, she gazed as her latest picture and sighed. Then, she watched the picture as it faded. "Ridiculous," she murmured. "Ridiculous."

He watched her as she stood up straight, but still gazed out the window. Finally, she picked up her glasses case and put her glasses inside, the plastic shutting loudly in the dull halls. "Ridiculous," she said. With that, she walked towards the stairs and down them.

As soon as she was out of sight and he could no longer hear her footsteps, Tom began towards the stairs himself, but stopped, slightly curious as to what she wrote on the window. He looked at it, her message invisible. All he had to do was breathe on it, and-

He shook his head. No. This was all Chandler's business. He didn't even know why he was curious anyway.

He looked at the floor. Then at the moon. Then the staircase. The archway. The shadows.

He turned to the window. Leaning in, he caught her scent faintly, and he remembered when he first smelled it; dahlias. He breathed onto the area slowly and quietly, then looked at her message.

_Tom during daylight_

_Victor in the night_

_I'm scared, but curious_

_Why me?_

He stared at the message before pulling his robe over his palm and smearing it away. Then, he started off down the hall. He would definitely have things to think about tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

**Maybe Tomorrow**

It had snowed. The headmaster decided today was a nice day to go out and celebrate. Classes were cancelled. Few teachers opposed.

Chandler walked down the hall, looking at the people who were having snowball fights outside and sledding. She didn't favor the snow. It was cold, and besides, who would want to be cold and wet simultaneously? It seemed like a good way to catch pneumonia.

She stood by the window, leaning against the sill as her eyes took in everything that happened below. There they were, those blasted Gryffindors, crowded around Belladonna as if she were the queen of the world. She scowled lightly and turned her attention away, not feeling up to being pissed at the present moment. She looked to her left and saw three Ravenclaws going down a hill on a tubular sled, hitting a tree with it, sending the tall one spinning and the shorter one hitting a pile of snow, leaving the last one on it-a girl-to laugh at her friends' misfortune.

She sighed. Chastity looked like she was having fun out there, as did Seth and Robert. They hadn't spoken this morning in the common room, or in the Hall for breakfast. It appeared nothing could be done over the matter except to let them cool off and wait for her redemption. As eager as she was to be forgiven, she would not take back what she said about Belladonna. That woman was no good.

Even now, she was strutting across the snow and talking to a group of no less than seven Gryffindors, each hanging on her every word, rapt with affection. It made Chandler sick. Not a single person in this whole world deserved that kind of attention, especially someone with such a closed mind as Belladonna.

Chandler liked to think of herself as open-minded and tolerant, unlike Belladonna. Belladonna thrived under attention for being the only person to not accept reality and to try and morph the world to change to her liking. Chandler was a person who accepted the world for being imperfect and cruel, and did not try to change it to benefit others. Chandler believed that every bad thing in this world would take itself under before anyone else.

It was when you tried to change it would it spill it's putrid faith on you. A true sinner is one who tries to come off as a saint.

"Are you not bored?"

Chandler looked behind her to see Tom Riddle, one of the few people Chandler expected to be skulking around inside. She felt the bitter comment in her mind sting a little, but after not communicating with him for ages and being left to stew in her own juices, Chandler found herself angry at Riddle for not being there to answer her questions. Not man enough to step up to the effects of his own doing. Snarky prick.

"I'm not bored," she said, looking back outside. "To the contrary, drowning in my thoughts is one of my pastimes."

He approached the window and stood next to her. Ahh, the joys of being angry with someone who had no social experience besides using people. He clearly wasn't as good at reading people as he thought.

He stared out the window for a moment, his sedimentary eyes taking in the sight below him. "I've never fancied snow, either," he said. Chandler knew that was what he had assumed from her being inside, and, truthfully, he was right on the target.

She looked at him. "Really?" she said, her voice dull like that of someone who was exasperated, but tired of using the effort to make it obvious. "Because I thought for sure its coldness would attract you."

He looked at her, his eyes now painfully analyzing. So he'd noticed the subtle changes she'd made; her monotonous voice and her lowered expectations of him. He was used to the Chandler he could match wits with, not the Chandler that let his comments roll to the side.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked, his voice now distant and less personal. When he was with her, he took on less of an intelligent tone, more of a personal one. Now, he had reverted back to his cold shell, to block his mind from everything that was about to unfold. He'd sensed it already.

Chandler looked to the window. "I'm merely contemplating the events that unfolded within the last few weeks," she said, her voice calm, even though she was about to drop a hint that would normally shatter herself into pieces. She would know; even thinking it over left a migrane forming in her head and tears pricking at her eyes. Her tearducts had never been so overworked.

"Such as..?" he inquired, and she knew he was going to brace himself mentally and endure it. This was his signal he wasn't backing down, even though he had no clue as to what she was going to refer to.

"Recent events," she continued. "Such as the finding of Belladonna King, my stitches and wounds, the story I heard of you and Belladonna King's interactions"-he'd let a flinch through, tiny, no, microscopic in size, but she still spotted it in her peripheral vision-"Giving you the potion, winning the contest, my scars revealed to you in the library, my meeting with Slughorn, my scarring descent from sanity involving Kenneth Johnston and the word 'primeival', and, of course, meeting you the night of my arrival."

She looked at Tom head-on, but he was staring out the window, his eyes fixed in one spot. His eyebrow twitched slightly as he took in her words. Then, after a few more moments of gazing out at the civilization forming below, he looked at her. "So you remember." It was not a question, merely a statement.

She nodded stiffly and looked back out the window, watching Chastity go down the hill on the tube and collide with Robert, who toppled over on her and made her shriek with laughter.

"How long have you remembered? Ever since that night?"

Chandler looked at Tom. "No," she replied quickly. "I didn't know for the longest time. I thought the first time I'd met you was in the Great Hall at breakfast with our encounter with Kenneth." He nodded to show he remembered too. "But then, the night Belladonna came back, I recalled... When you picked me up in your arms and carried me away to seek medical attention... It brought back a flurry of memories, all fuzzy, but telligable. I understood what happened that night, the faces that I saw in my dreams..."

She sighed, tapping her fingers against the windowpane. A tone of desperation cut into her voice, with slight longing. "In my dreams I saw someone else carrying me down the hallway, and I thought for sure that it was him..." She sighed, and the tone disappeared. "But then I remembered, not just by your face, but by the way you held me..." Chandler realized this would've been bizarre and weird beyond all comprehension if this were heard by anybody but privilaged ears, but the halls were empty, and any echo could be heard. If someone were to intrude, they would know instantly by any movement or sound they made.

She stared back out the window, her eyes scoping the ground. Finally, to spare further words of awkward recognition, she looked him in the eye. "You should learn to be less repetitive, Mister Riddle." She stood up straight, no longer leaning on the windowsill.

Tom looked at her, his expression still cold. "I'll take that to mind," he said, his impersonal tone still dominating his voice. She looked out the window, her eyebrows furrowed. "Good day, Miss Antoinette." He turned and walked curtly out of that particular hallway.

She sighed, pressing her forehead to the window and looking down once again. She thought that once they came to recognition of what this meant-that Tom was her saviour that night, and not the much-preferred Victor Antoinette-the atmosphere would revert to normal. Maybe she should've mentioned she was holding nothing against him.

She sighed again, looking at where her breath fogged the window. She remembered her message and closed her eyes.

Tom walked through the hallways, his footsteps still confident and commanding, as always. However, like last night, Chandler had inserted a whole new load of thoughts into his system.

He had been puzzling over that stupid message most of the night; not for the sake of blackmail or bribery, like he normally would, but for the sake of his

_**d a m n c u r i o s i t y. **_He had enough trouble figuring **that **part out alone, not to mention the stupid message. But now he realized it. He got it.

'Tom in the daylight' obviously meant that when she'd seen Tom during the day, he was nothing but Tom Riddle, that undeniable prodigy with a knack for getting just what he needed.

'Victor in the night' meant that, by night, Tom's rescue appeared in her dreams, but she didn't see Tom, she saw what she saw the day she was brought here; Victor.

'I'm scared, but curious' was the only part he didn't get. I'm scared, but curious. He still thought over it, even though he told himself not to. What was she scared of? Was she scared of what happened, but she wanted to know? No, she already knew as much; Dumbledore would've told her. Was she scared of thinking of those men from before, but wanted to know their motive? No, Chandler didn't seem like the kind of person who let her past bother her. She kept her scars close and personal, yes, but they didn't dominate her life (unless they opened). What could she possibly be scared of, but curious to explore?

He stopped in his tracks. _Explore. _That night, the night Belladonna came back, Chandler was out in the forest. _Exploring _both her mind and the setting around her. Trying to _explore _certain myths within her, like the one with Tom. 'I'm scared, but curious'. She wanted to know more about what happened that night.

He slightly smiled. So she didn't just assume that he was guilty, like her friends. She wanted facts and evidence and a message from the man himself. She'd already learned from Gloria that she couldn't trust anybody who claimed they knew Tom Riddle; she knew he flew solo. No, to get true, hardcore information, she knew she had to go straight to the source.

He thought it over. She'd been generous to him; she got him information on the uses and ingredients, as well as the proper preparation and hazards, of Felix Felicis, and even gave him her only bottle; a treasure, a real pot of gold, and an earning of hers. She could have just as easily bent everyone to her will, however simple-minded it may be, or used it to find any traces of her family, but no. She handed it over to him without a second thought, straight from the contest. She never went back on her word and testified against her friends when asked if he'd done anything to her. She was honest.

He smiled even wider than before. Maybe later, he would tell her the truth about that night; the night Belladonna King disappeared. _Hey, _he thought to himself, walking back to the Slytherin common room. _She'd earned it._


	13. Chapter 13

**Take Back**

(Even though my offical breaking of 100KB was a few chapters ago, I'd like to thank all of you for reading, and if I've no readers, well, then I'd like to thank whoever's hosting this for hosting an, apparently, crappy story. This is the one thing keeping me going so far.)

It was around midday. The sun peaked through the clouds, a white supernova of light in a dreary, dark world. The light soared through the sky and into the Ravenclaw common room, sliding across the the carpeted floor and decorating the mahogany coffee table amongst sapphire and cerulean chairs with an array of dashing reflections. It stretched down over the sofas and lit them up to further enhance their color. The light rolled gently over brunette locks that hung idly over the edge of the couch and lit them up a brilliant gold, then slipping over pale skin and making it glow eerily. Truthfully, in the sunshine, Chandler was a golden-haired mistress that belonged behind a dragon in a castle tower.

Chandler had gotten tired of writing overdue papers three times each (extra copies in case she lost one [and, besides, she'd already finished all of them]) and reading books to catch up on missed classes (since this was all within her level of comprehension), so she had decided to take a nap. If she'd stayed awake one more moment, she would've resigned herself to thinking on the subject of what to say to Tom Riddle next, and, well, let's just say that wouldn't have gone over well.

Laying on the couch, her body sprawled out, she was in a deep trance that could only be described as peaceful sleep. She was oblivious to the world outside her dreams. She didn't hear the faint click of the common room door opening, or the loud, thudding footsteps growing soft almost instantaneously as the culprit of the loud noises saw Chandler snoozing on the couch. With her lowered inhibitions, she couldn't feel their eyes tracing her body, their soft whispers to their following comrades to keep quiet.

As two beings thumped upstairs to get changed out of their snowy clothes for lunch, Robert sat in the common room and looked at Chandler; she was breathing quietly, her pale skin a stark contrast to the dark sapphire of the couch. Her arms, scarred pieces of evidence of hard times, were out for the world to see; ever since she was tended to in Madame Adams', she wore them out, no longer self-conscious of people's opinions of her wounds. Robert averted his gaze from the deep wounds, stitched perfectly closed by expert hands, and noticed the delicate rise-and-fall motion of her chest, and her expressionless face. It was hard to believe that a woman of logic like Chandler could be caught, rendered helpless and _**napping **_on the common room couch. She just didn't seem like she was the kind of woman to rest so easily.

He looked at her wounds again. He couldn't help it; it was as if he were somehow attracted to them, like magnetic north on a compass. They were deep, sideways ridges on her arms that coated her in a pattern not unlike that of a zebra; and some were big enough to compete with the size of zebra stripes. They scraped across her elbows and dusted her forearms, coating her wrists and mangling her palms. Her whole upper body was probably a martyr to these cuts and slices that one could identify her by.

He blinked pointedly and sighed. He truthfully wanted to throw a blanket over her to hide her arms. He'd never been fond of blood, and to see so many cuts on someone was absolutely shocking.

Chastity came back downstairs from her room and looked at Robert. After a few moments of staring, she approached quietly and sat next to him. "Has she woken up yet?" Chastity whispered.

"No," he replied just as quietly. "Her breathing hasn't unevened yet. She's still in deep."

"Good," Chastity said blankly, looking over Chandler's limp form roughly. She sighed and rubbed her temples. "Why do we continue to neglect her, Robert?"

"Because you're angry with her."

"I'm really not."

"Well, we can apologize."

"But that's just it; I..."

"You...?" Robert egged her on.

"I don't think I ever was."

He blinked. "Then why did you say you were?"

"I don't know, I just felt I should've been."

"Well, why'd you feel that?"

"Because Belladonna was our friend!"

"Was?"

She looked at her hands, sprawled in her lap. Chandler stirred, letting out a content sigh from her dreams.

"What if Chandler was right about Belladonna?"

Robert looked at Chastity, but she was staring at Chandler. "What do you mean?"

"About her being a bad egg. Maybe Chandler knew something we didn't?"

"That's ridiculous. She only just met her in the forest."

"Things can be said in an instant or in a lifetime, but it's what's said that's significant."

"So you're saying you're trusting Chandler now?"

"Not just out of a whim," Chastity mentioned quietly. "I've noticed Belladonna's... changed since then."

"Do tell."

"Well, Belladonna's been acting strange. She's been glancing at the Slytherin table. She's been hanging out in the dungeons. Maybe she's just waiting to pick another fight with Riddle?"

"And make us all fall in love with her again?" Robert suggested, and Chastity nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "So that she could convict Riddle for good this time."

Seth wandered into the common room from behind them. "Ready to eat?" he murmured, looking at Chandler as she rustled around a little in her sleep. They all looked at her, waiting for her to wake up. But she didn't. She flipped onto her back in one soft motion, smiling slightly in her dreams, a strand of dark hair falling across her brow, looking so pure and untouched by fate in the sunshine.

Seth hastened to the door, and so did Robert. Chastity stood to follow, and they waited for her by the door. She looked at Chandler and approached her quietly, gently sweeping her hair from her brow with her fingers. She smiled down at her snoozing friend and headed to the door.

It closed quietly. Chandler's eyes fluttered open and she sat up, looking at where they left her in the room. She felt the remaining warmth from where the sun beamed on her. Lucky for her, they wouldn't have to discuss much with her later. Chandler Antoinette was a terribly light sleeper; she was up before they had even stepped foot inside.


	14. Chapter 14

**Bundled Hours**

The midday sun had already sunk lower in the sky from its throne. Children were back outside, enjoying the remnants of snow. As for Chandler, she had been wandering around, mapping out the school, if you will, to make sure she didn't get lost on her way to classes. No doubt she would be attending them as soon as school was back in session, and she wanted to be ready for everything.

Walking through the halls, she remembered the location of Slughorn's office and classroom, the two being joined by one single door. Making mental notes, she quietly admired the architecture and grand design of such a castle. She wondered how long ago Victor was walking these halls, making notes in his head to flush some Slytherin essays down a toilet (because she didn't doubt at all that was what Victor had in mind for revenge; everything amusing to Victor involved a toilet or water of some kind).

She laughed airily, turning in one particularly large section of hallway. "The one thing you never mentioned to me, Victor," she said softly. "Was the places you'd been. The people you'd seen. The ones that you held closest to your heart. And I know what you would've thought; what kind of story does that make? Well, to me, that makes a much better story than any troll, ogre, or centaur you could've described to me." She smiled brightly, looking at the elegant arches of the halls.

As she gazed around, her eyes met a familiar form leaning against a wall, and she stopped spinning abruptly to look at the two chestnut eyes appraising her knowingly. She opened her mouth to say his name, but she nearly forgot their previous status, and called him by his first. "M-Mister Riddle," she recovered sloppily, looking at the ground, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides.

"Miss Antoinette," he replied, stepping forward towards her. "I trust your day has been a comfortable one as of yet?"

"Yes," she said, not looking him in the eye. Of all the things she prepared to say to him to gain control over the conversation from the start, none of them were appropriate for how he was steering the conversation. Always in control, that Tom Riddle. "And has yours?"

"It's been... challenging, though not in a wholly bad way," he said, gazing at the hall. After looking around a while, he finally looked back at her. "Miss Antoinette," he said. "I hope I can ask you to accompany me on a walk. We have a few things I would like to clear up."

She looked at him; he wasn't joking. What was this about? _Probably about the whole me thinking he was Victor thing... _she thought, but nodded. He turned and began to walk. She caught up to him and fell into step beside him.

It was like this for a few minutes; no speech or anything, but gazing the high walls of the castle and admiring the stonemasonry. Finally, Tom spoke into the silence.

"You mentioned to me earlier," he said, his voice soft, and she looked at him, though they still walked. "That you'd heard... a story about King and I."

Chandler nodded, looking up at the ceiling. "Indeed, I have," she replied.

"I want you to relay it to me, exactly as you heard it."

She looked at Tom; there was something odd about him. The way his gaze kept sweeping across the room, the way his fingers were moving constantly as if he were... Nervous.

She looked him in the eye. "Alright," she said, and they stopped walking. She relayed the story to him with every detail that Chastity, Robert, and Seth had told her; Belladonna's history, their competitions, everything. And when she was done with the story, Tom was looking at the ground, his body more calm and focused, as if something she said had lifted the veil of confusion from him.

"And who told you this?" he asked her, still looking at the ground.

"Chastity, Seth, and Robert," she replied, and he looked her in the eye.

"Well," he said. "I'm sorry they weren't so specific on what happened to her the night she disappeared." She nodded, feeling her stomach drop as he opened his mouth to speak again. "Would you like me to fill in the blanks?"

She looked at the floor a few more moments before nodding carefully. "Yes, I would," she said. She wanted to know the truth. She was tired of the rumours, of the 'maybe's, of the lies. She wanted nothing but facts.

He let loose a snarky smile and leaned against the wall. "You're well aware of her intentions by now," he said. "Everyone had known that she was out to thwart whatever 'master scheme' I had planned up." Chandler nodded, getting comfortable by the wall herself. Her heart was racing and her palms were sweating, but other than that, she looked assured. "She had followed me outside one night, a little past seven. It was sprinkling, now that I think it over," he murmured, looking at the ground and tapping his chin. Typical of Tom to be analytical enough to notice the weather that night. He looked back up at Chandler. "I was headed into the Dark Forest; always had she feared it during daylight." Chandler could imagine it...

_Belladonna lept through the forest after Tom, who was walking, pacing himself as usual. With sparks in his eyes and that mischevious grin on his face, who knew what he was up to next. She felt it was her duty to play the good guy again, to stop him, because without her, everything was lost. She was the only one brave enough to stand up to him. And stand up, she would._

_Not paying attention, she noticed now that she'd lost him somewhere in the forest. Glaring around, her gaze soon dropped to one of fear as she realized she was left alone in her own forest of fear. Looking around frantically, she almost called out to Tom, but refrained, standing alone as the rain drowned out all notification of oncoming enemies. She was a sitting duck._

_"Have you any idea what you've gotten yourself into __**now**__?" Tom's voice echoed over the bark of trees, but his face was invisible in the night. She looked around for him, but he wasn't there. "Sneaking off after people who are just trying to mind their own business isn't polite of you, King."_

_She stood up straight, long, blonde locks dampened by rain. "Neither is your attitude towards others," she snapped. "Come out. I don't know where you're hiding, but eventually, I'll find you."_

_He let out a cackle meant to scare her. He wanted to show her who she had to fear out there. "Let's hope you find me before the acromantulas find you." She shuddered visibly in the rain._

_Leaves rustled in an oncoming wind, and the rain slightly hardened. "Riddle!" she yelled, slightly scared, slightly angry. "I only followed you to discuss things with you!"_

_"Like what?" he hissed from the shadows. He had to admit, he was sinking pretty low for Tom Riddle, but this opportunity was too much to pass up, and as of late, he hadn't been favoring King at all._

_"Like what you've been doing to people!" she cried in return. "Like what you've been saying to them! What you've been saying to me!"_

_"Still going on about other people, are we?" he said distastefully. "I bet you say that to everyone you scorn. Your only reason for pursuing me these past few months was for yourself, not for other people," he yelled above the rain. "You never had a problem with me before, what makes it so justified that you have a problem with me now?"_

_"Nothing!" she yelled. "Stupid boy, don't you get it? The only reason I'm hurting your reputation like this is because-"_

_"I said no." He finished her sentence for her and glared at her from where he stood in the shadows. "You've never been told no before, have you? And just because I started the chain makes it justified for you to attack me. Because you want it so badly you can't take no for an answer." She began to cry in the darkness, in the rain, as it pounded ever-harder on her shoulders. As he was about to attack her even further, he stopped, listening to the forest over the sound of the rain. He was hearing noises. Was it just him, or..._

_In an instant, he heard it approaching. He whipped out his wand and pointed it towards the sound. Then, seeing something move in the shadows, he yelled, "Arania Exumai!" A large thud was heard, and an acromantula flew backwards, lit up by the spell. Tom's eyes widened and he quickly ran to Belladonna. He wanted to taunt her still further, but there wasn't any time. _

_Seeing him approaching, Belladonna's eyes widened, but his face was serious. "You got your wand on you?" he asked above the fall of rain._

_"No," she replied. "I left it back-"_

_He gripped her hand and tugged her urgently, but she ripped her wrist away and glared at him. "Riddle, what the he-"_

_"This isn't the right time to argue, King," he said., malice decorating his voice. "Trust me, our meeting is not ajourned, but now-"_

_"Then I suggest we finish it!" she yelled. "You're not going anywhere until we sort this out!" _

_A twig snapped loudly behind Belladonna. Her eyes widened and she froze in place, glancing over her shoulder quickly and screaming at what she saw._

_Startled by her scream, the acromantula screeched menacingly and leaped forward, grabbing the corner of her robe with a fang and dragging her back with it. She screamed and whipped around, gripping frantically at anything in the ground and yelling into the night._

_Tom cursed and ran after her. A spell would be too risky if he were too far away, especially with so much motion. He heard her crying his name into the night, but he stayed silent, his finding her merely a mission rather than an obligation. But as she faded into the darkness, he began to lose sight of her, and soon he was with nothing but the rain and the echoing screams off of the trees. And he didn't once show fear or panic, even when he was sitting in solitude in the forest, turning his wand in his hands and staring into the darkness ahead of him._

_He waited for an hour for any sign of life. Then he turned tail and walked home alone._

Tom stood from his lean on the wall and looked at Chandler. "You can blame me for my heartlessness, but if you are to do so, put King into mind," he said. "She's the one who turned me away from any **thought** of social contact. It was her fault as well." He looked at the floor.

Chandler was still leaning against the wall, her head tilted downward. "Strange," she said. "If she was so afraid of the forest, then why did she run after you?"

"She just couldn't take no for an answer," Tom replied. "She was a golden child, I guess you could say. Everything she requested for, she got. I was the first one to refuse her anything. She didn't know what to do besides pester until I got weary or maybe had a change of heart and said yes."

"And what, exactly, did you refuse her that was so important, she would run into a forest of nightmares to receive a yes?"

"Me."

Chandler looked up abruptly from her gaze at the ground. _Aw, God._ But she ignored her mental reprimand and looked him in the eye. "What?"

"She had asked me to be hers," he said. "She said she admired my ideas, thought about me a lot, even admired my confidence and sense of self. She said everything I did only impressed her further still, regardless of its morality. But she did note she would enjoy my presence even more if I had only switched to asking for help instead of enforcing it. But my enforcing ideas was a covenant I had with everybody else; a sense of superiority was forged by my not having to ask for things. And by showing a relationship forming between King and I would be breaking that covenant by showing people that Tom Riddle got along with and even **enjoyed **the presence of King, thereby showing I was cooperative under some levels. I needed to show I was an impenetrable fortress of knowledge and power, as I am. By making a relationship and following her reforms, I would be submitting myself to a whole new bureaucracy." He continued to look steadily into her eyes. "Even if I had wanted to say yes, my position and general public persona wouldn't have allowed it. It was a damned and fruitless voyage from the start."

Chandler felt a question bubbling up from inside her, and she tried to keep it in, but it came out anyway. "And had you wanted to say yes?"

Tom let loose a small smile. "No," he said. "She and I were from two different classes; those who work for what they want and those who flatter for it. I suppose, though you can see my line of work as opportunistic rather than honest, it is at least work, rather than shoving yourself in every direction and hoping for the best." He laughed, but it was dry and indifferent. "I suppose you can say I am making it complex. To keep it simple, it would have never worked out." He looked at Chandler once again. "Have I cleared things up a bit?"

She nodded, closing her eyes. Eyes are windows to the soul, they say, and she would've hated for Tom to see her inner turmoil ensuing. The haunting thoughts darting through her mind shattered her basic principles and the line between right and wrong was bent so much she couldn't divide anything with it. It seemed everything she thought was a difficult whirlwind now, and truth was merged to lies as well as hate being merged into love. What had once been simple before Tom's 'clearing up' of the situation now left her disoriented enough to steer a boat backwards and left her brain a heaping pile of mush. So much for 'thinking with your head straight'. She wasn't quite sure what straight was anymore. "And they say ignorance is bliss."

"Hmm?"

Chandler had forgotten Tom was there and was speaking aloud to herself again, but recovered smoothly by looking up at him and letting out a dry smile. "They say ignorance is bliss. I'm afraid what you've said on Belladonna's trials has left me wishing I had just gone along with what I had assumed before."

"But you would have been wrong."

"Yes, I know this," she said, smiling at him genuinely now. "But I think the peace of mind that went along with it would be nice. I would rather be happy than right any day."

Tom looked at the ground quickly, avoiding looking at her for a few moments. "I'm glad I could steer you in the right direction, though I do not envy you the headache you will suffer later." He nodded curtly. "Goodbye." Then he left abruptly, and Chandler noticed that he did not meet her eyes.

Sighing, she looked around the halls again. Suddenly she wasn't too keen on what Victor could've told her, had he told her otherwise. She suddenly realized she should be happy with what she already knows. FInding the moments that just passed to be vital to the proving true of this statement, she threw back her head and laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Shores**

Night fell swiftly over Hogwarts and students rushed inside from a winter wonderland to enjoy a warm dinner and cocoa. Chandler had been asked to visit Slughorn in his office and was headed on her way there now. Passing Slytherins on their way to dinner, not one of them cast her a glance as she trotted down the stairs.

Getting to the dungeons, she walked to Slughorn's door and knocked lightly. A small shuffle was heard inside before it opened. Slughorn's smile was visible before anything else.

"Come in, my dear," he said, and she nodded and smiled softly, walking inside and hearing the door shut behind her. "Have a seat," his voice sounded, and she sat graciously on the couch, looking around his room as she did the first time she was allowed in.

Slughorn sat in an armchair across from her. He reached forward into a small bowl of candies and pulled one out. "Sugar Queen?"

"Oh, no thank you," she replied kindly, and he popped the small candy into his mouth. "You wanted to see me, professor?"

"Yes," he replied. "Well, I suppose I shall get right to it, shall I?" he asked, and cleared his throat. "The day I had given you the prize for brilliantly winning the contest, we'd scheduled a meeting. Alas, we never got around to it; I'm assuming what happened afterwards was how you ended up outside and injured, but that's deeply beside the point." She glanced away briefly, not wanting to think about her arms, and grasped them tightly to her.

"Anyway," he continued. "I still want to discuss that proposition with you, however delayed it may have been. I have now given it a lot of thought, and I think you are a perfect candidate to join my club."

Chandler's eyebrows raised. "A club, Professor?"

"Yes," he said spiritedly. "For gifted and bright students. These are students who have worked hard and diligently, top-class students with no room for fault. Perfection is in your blood, Chandler. You are a bright young witch who I believe would make a great addition to our club! No doubt, you'll see some familiar faces in there; Tom Riddle is part of it, and now that Belladonna King is back, she shall be re-joining." Chandler fought a grimace and let loose a small smile. "So," he concluded. "Shall you be joining us?"

She sat there, taken by surprise by the sudden proposition. It really wasn't what she had expected of him. "I don't know, Professor," she said quietly. "I won't fit in with the others, and I'm hardly a worthy addition to your group. I'm not smart, merely educated, and I'm not acquainted with your fellow members, though I don't doubt they are brilliant," she said. "Tom Riddle is one of the finest minds I know. And Belladonna is surely a capable witch. But I am neither brilliant nor capable. I'm just a troublemaker, Professor Slughorn." His smile faded as she continued. "I'm sorry, Professor. But I think I am unequipped to be amongst you." With that, Chandler stood up slowly and nodded to the professor. Then, she walked to the door of his room.

"Chandler," he said, and she stopped, turning to look at him. He had risen from his couch and was looking at her calmly. "If you ever do want to, the offer still stands."

She nodded to him. "Okay, Professor," she said, and she left his room.

Closing the door behind her, she secretly hated herself. She leaned against the wall next to the door and slid down it, thinking to herself. The only reason she didn't want to join was because Belladonna was there, and she really couldn't imagine that going along well. But it wasn't that for which she hated herself. She hated the fact that **she **was the one who backed down, rather than asserting dominance, like most others would. She wished that Victor was there to put some inspiration back into her, to pump her up like he usually did.

_"Little sister," he said quietly, kneeling next to her. She had just been picked on by a bunch of other girls and boys when Victor had appeared, scaring them off. She had a bruise on her cheek and tummy and a bloodied and swollen lip. Victor wiped away her tears and pulled her close. "Don't let them get to you."_

_"Victor," she said softly, tearfully. "I didn't do anything to them. I swear. Don't tell mommy or daddy I did anything to them."_

_"I would never do that, Chandler," he replied, pulling away to show her a trustworthy smile. "You're too kind-hearted to hurt anybody. You always make room for others at the expense of your own happiness." He sighed. "That's both a gift and a curse, baby sister." He was still smiling, but it was a bit sad, like she had no hope. She sensed he knew she thought this, because he hugged her again, cautious of her stomach._

_"Chandler, your kindness will exceed others in a way nobody thinks possible," he whispered in her ear. "And you will show them, in due time, that that is the way to be."_

_She smiled into his hair, still crying, and hugged him._

Chandler opened her eyes, finding herself lost and a little frightened without her brother really being there, really being in front of her, smiling like a man in a confessional. How old had she been when that happened? How many years passed before he suddenly left her life? And how long had he known, been forbidden, to use the very curses that had killed him?

She stood up, feeling herself shivering with a silent longing to see her brother and hug him, hold his hand and cry on his shoulder one last time. How her fearfulness was her undoing and her brother wasn't there to watch her back. He wasn't there to cheer her on anymore. That reality suddenly sunk in and frightened her.

She turned to Slughorn's door and suddenly knocked, feeling a certain curiousity well up with her tears. The door opened and Slughorn was surprised to see a tearful Chandler Antoinette at his door, tangling her fingers together and looking down often.

"Professor," she said quietly, almost too quiet to hear, yet he caught it.

"What is it, child?" he asked in a quiet voice too, not knowing how to handle her sadness. She looked up at him, no longer ashamed to be crying by her professor.

"Did you know Victor Antoinette, by any chance?" she asked through her tears.

His eyes widened. "Your elder brother," he replied, and she nodded. "Yes, I knew him."

"W-What was he like?" she asked, feeling like a child once again. Her eyes glistened with tears and there was an unknown ghost there, as if she wanted one last grasp of him.

"Your brother was part of my club," he said. "He was one of the brightest students in it. Witty, funny, and clever. He was great at debate and was caring. And, ever since she was born, he would talk about nothing but his baby sister." Chandler's eyes widened and she looked up at the professor. He was smiling warmly at her. "He would talk about how she began to walk, her favorite activities, his suspicions of her being a witch and her uncanny ability to get away with everything." Chandler giggled in her sadness, wiping away a few tears. "He was loved by all and hated by none."

She nodded, looking down and letting out a small sob. Then, after standing there a moment in silence, she looked back up at the professor, her eyes gleaming, her tears stopping. "I wish to join the club in place of my brother." She then caught herself. "Though I will never be a true replacement for him, I will try my hardest to make him proud."

Slughorn smiled at her. "Excellent," he said. She nodded to him and wandered down the hallway, turning to go up a staircase. He watched her go, knowing that she wasn't going to dinner; she was going back to her common room. Chandler, he thought, was more than capable of being her brother's sister. She just had yet to discover that fact.

She wandered down the halls, straying from the Great Hall. No doubt her meandering was not smiled upon, but she needed the space to excersize her mind. So, she had joined Slughorn's club; not for herself, but in honor of her brother. _To make him proud, _she thought to herself. She swirled up a staircase, her robes floating behind her back. _To make sure he remembers his little sister._

She walked past a large window, the one she had breathed her secrets onto, but stopped when she noticed something outside. She walked back to the center and looked around, trying to spot it again. Something moved in the forest, and she looked at it. What was it? It looked like pale skin, a humanoid figure. With a sudden jolt, she realised it was a person; and they might have been injured.

Instantly, she ran to the staircase and down it, sprinting across the halls and down more stairs, across the entryway to the Great Hall, before coming to the door closest to them. She opened it and shut it behind her quickly, turning to the forest. The place was silhouetted in snow, the ground underneath the canopy of thick trees slightly free of snow save in a few patches. She was hesitant about diving into that forest again, but she still walked in pretty quickly, looking around the forest to see the pale skin she'd seen before.

"Hello?" she called, cupping her hands next to her mouth to eminate more sound. "Hello, is anybody out there?" Steam rose from her mouth as she looked about, breathing heavily from her run. She heard a rustling noise and looked toward it, but the space was void of all life. "Hello?" she repeated a little louder. "I'm a Hogwarts student, I'm only trying to help you!"

"Is someone there?" a voice rasped, and she looked toward it; a pale-skinned man was laying down on his side, his arms in front of him. His legs were in a patch of snow. She quickly ran to him, kneeling next to him.

"Oh, sir," she said, noting he was older than her. His messy hair and ragged clothes only proved he'd been through Hell. "What are you doing out here in the freezing cold?"

"Not important," he rasped, coughing a bit.

"It's okay, sir, I'll go summon help-" she got up to leave, but he grasped her arm and pulled her down.

"No, don't leave-" he was cut off by his own rasping cough. It was a throat-chafing, lung-burning cough, and Chandler felt pity roll through her as she took his hand from her arm and grasped it reassuringly. It was cold as ice. He must have been out there a while.

"It's okay, sir," she said. She didn't know how she'd get help for this man without going to the castle, and she surely couldn't do what she did with Belladonna; this man probably weighed more; but it really didn't matter right now. She stayed to comfort him. "Oh, sir, what happened to you? Are you alright?"

"I think," a voice said from behind her, and she turned around to spot another ragged man standing there. He was taller than the one on the ground, and was just as filthy. "You should be more concerned of your own welfare."

Before Chandler could ask, the man who was once laying down grabbed her from behind, crossing his arms around hers and coming together to clasp his forearms across her stomach. His arms were damp and soaking into her robes from being in the snow. She screamed as the other man grabbed her flailing legs, which kicked snow up at him, and tried to bind them with a thick rope. Her shoe connected with his chin, and his head was cast up for a moment. Angered and bleeding from his lip, he stood up and slapped her face, silencing her momentarily. He knelt again, this time successfully binding her ankles together with rope.

He stood up, admiring his work, then looked at her. "Now, now, no screaming, love," he said, and he waved a wand at her; and her voice disappeared. She kept screaming, but then she noticed that she wasn't making a sound. Panicked, her eyes opened wide and she looked around frantically, struggling harder. Her arms were trapped, her legs bound, and she was voiceless. A cornered boar, that was what she was.

The man looked over her shoulder and at the other one. "C'mon, Barkis, this is too close to Hoggies. We gotta get her elsewhere before we finish what we started."

Chandler didn't know whether to be grateful or terrified that she didn't know what they were talking about. Still, as Barkis turned and began walking behind the taller one deeper into the woods, Chandler couldn't help but begin to cry as the light cast from the torch by the door faded. Soon she was left with the cold light of the moon and the crunching snow and dead leaves beneath her kidnappers' feet.

Thank God, then, that a student-an ambitious Hufflepuff, really, who wanted to practice a spell-had witnessed her kidnapping. He nearly dropped his wand as he ran for the door, nearly slipping but banging it open and not even bothering to shut it. He crossed the some 30 feet to the Great Hall door quickly and ran straight into the Great Hall, right into the middle before shouting as loudly as he could, ignoring his banging heart and his aching lungs, "Capture, capture, CAPTURE!"

The teachers paused in their meals and looked at him, having been the only ones concerned with what a boy would be doing, running into the Great Hall like he'd just seen a ghost. Still, he caught his breath and stood up straighter, shutting his eyes tightly and screaming as loud as he could, "ROGUES IN THE FOREST! THEY GOT HER, THEY GOT HER!"

The whole dining masses paused in their meals to look at the boy, who continued yelling, almost not noticing they were paying attention, "THEY TOOK HER AWAY, THEY BOUND HER AND HIT HER! SHE'S GONE, THEY TOOK HER, THEY TOOK HER AWAY!"

The teachers nearly hopped their table, running to him and asking him questions. Tom recognized him as one of Belladonna's old friends; roughly his age, he had dark skin and silver eyes, with long, black hair. He was trembling, obviously showing this was serious. He was wearing his Hufflepuff robes and fingerless gloves, and his fingers were a little reddened at the tip, showing he'd been outside. There was also a bit of snow on his shoes.

"Who did they get, boy?" the headmaster asked, and everyone was so silent that their words echoed off the walls. Everyone could hear. Chastity and Robert had stood up, Seth already being tall enough to see sitting down.

"Ravenclaw, she was a Ravenclaw," he said. "She won the Battle of Wits earlier this year against the Hufflepuffs-"

"Chandler!" Slughorn gasped, paling instantly. "Good Lord, what have I done?"

Chastity didn't listen to any more. She got up an ran as fast as she could through the opened doors and Robert and Seth got up to follow. Nobody heard them depart over the commotion the boy was making-nobody but the person who was looking.

Tom got up, drawing his wand, and headed after them through the door. Belladonna, who had been watching Tom, got up as well and trotted out. The boy had seen them all leave.

"Where were they headed?" Dumbledore asked, and the boy trembled before replying.

"To the center of the forest," he replied.

"Very good, son," the headmaster reassured him. "Very good. Go to your rooms and rest, son, rest." Thanking him quietly, the boy ran to the doors and out them, as the headmaster began assuring his students all was well. However, the boy did not run to his rooms; instead, he ran toward the door, which was still ajar, and drew his wand.

Meanwhile, Chastity had drawn hers, but didn't dare use Lumos Maxima in the forest, for fear she'd attract their attention. She was looking at the ground for footsteps in the patches of snow and following the putrid stench wafting in the cold air from where they were.

"Chastity," Robert said, struggling to keep up with her. "I don't think this is a good idea-"

"Of course it's not," Chastity said quietly, a hiss to Robert. "But I'll be damned if I let Chandler get kidnapped and not do anything about it."

"They were probably adults, the guys who kidnapped her," Robert warned. "And we don't even know how many there are. Even if there's only two of 'em, we're still outnumbered with skill and tactic-"

"That's where I come in," Tom said from behind them, and they froze, turning to look at him. Robert opened his mouth to speak, his eyebrows furrowing and his expression turning nasty, but Tom interrupted him. "I understand there's bad blood between us. But there's no use bringing it up here, and now. Your friend's in trouble and I'm here to help. The consequences will be deadly for her if we boil our tension even further."

Robert looked to Chastity for any sign of retaliation. But, to his surprise, she nodded at him and turned, once again attaching herself to their trail. Robert, Seth, and Tom followed without a fuss.

"Thank God my dad taught me how to track shit," Chastity murmured, loud enough to hear. "And here I thought it was a waste of time."

"You guys are gonna need more than four arms," Belladonna said, and they only spared her a single glance as she joined in their group. "The boy said they're rogues, and they're pretty dangerous."

"Can't believe you don't even remember my name, Belladonna," the boy said, and they spared him only a glance too. "We used to be best friends. And for the record, everyone knows rogues are dangerous, Sherlock." Belladonna was a little surprised that Chastity chuckled at the jab, but Chastity continued on her trail.

Robert, meanwhile, looked to the boy. "Hey, you're Nathaniel Sandhurst. I recognize you from the Quidditch match. Hufflepuff's keeper, right?"

Nathaniel smiled. "Yeah, and what a right lot of crap that match was-"

"Guys," Chastity said, not looking at them as her breath trailed back over her shoulder in silent, vaporised whisps. "I love Quidditch myself, but there are more important things going on right now."

They nodded in unison, a silent sorry to her, as she continued after the trail. The rest of the way, they were silent, watching as they were taken deeper and deeper into the forest. Suddenly, Chastity stopped. Everyone else stopped behind her.

"What is it, Chastity?" Robert asked, but Chastity quietly shushed him.

"The smell is stronger," she whispered. "And I hear voices."

Everyone froze to listen, some even stilling their breathing, and they found she was right; over the dim noises of the night, they could hear voices.

"Barkis, hand me that other rope, will ya?"

Footsteps crunched in the snow. "Sure... What if they find us, Sonwise?"

"They won't fuckin' find us, we're in the middle of the fuckin' forest, ya ass, now hand me the fuckin' rope!"

Chastity began forward again, her footsteps silent as she swiftly darted toward the noise and smell, avoiding patches of snow-covered earth. The others followed, careful to silence their own footsteps, but the rogues wouldn't hear them over their own noise anyway. They laid down in the snow, Tom to Chastity's right, then Seth, Belladonna, Robert and Nathaniel. They all peered up onto the bank, unnoticed by the oblivious captors.

Chastity was thankful they were on a bank as she looked up at them. They had chosen the worst place to take somebody captive; they were on risen ground with trees surrounding them in a clearing with only tree stumps. The ground sloped sharply downward and that was where Chastity and her friends were situated, all staring up at the rogues as they tied Chandler's hands together. She was tied to a tree, her mouth moving in inaudible shouts.

"What's she saying?" Chastity asked in a low whisper.

"I'm reading her lips right now," Belladonna whispered back.

"Wonder where she got that," Nathaniel muttered under his breath, and Robert stifled a chuckle.

"...without help, this silver silence is neverending, the silent cries of the long forgotten cast down over unwilling ears..." Belladonna recited, her eyes watching Chandler's lips intently. "And I'd scream for his help but knowing he's not here makes the better of us the worst and the worst of us the demons... Maybe the silence was the better after all..." Then, after a few more seconds, Belladonna frowned.

Chastity looked at her urgently, leaning back to see over Tom. "Keep going!" she whispered loudly.

"She keeps saying the same thing over and over again..." Belladonna said, looking at Chastity. "It's in a code; I can't understand it. It looks like 'Luke's eternal, two is used and mortal'. Anybody know what that might mean?"

Everybody was stumped, but Tom was shaking his head. "It's not English," he whispered, everyone looked at him. "It's Latin. _Lux eterna, tutis usque ad mortem_."

"What does that mean?" Seth asked.

"It means 'My eternal friend, protected until death'." He looked up at Chandler. "She's trying to make herself ready to die."

"She's not going to die," Chastity said, determined. She looked at everybody, who were all staring back at her, surprised at her determination. "We won't let them take her." She looked around for support.

Tom nodded.

"The hell we **do** let them!" Nathaniel whispered loudly.

They looked up at the captors, unsure how to rescue her.

"We have to wait for an opening," Seth murmured. "Something to attract their attention. That Barkis one is wary; he keeps looking around."

"Right," Belladonna said. "We gotta wait for something to distract him."

"Way to be on the ball, Donna the Bell," Nathaniel whispered.

On the above ground, a scene was unfolding. Barkis took an axe and cut Chandler from the tree. She almost fell, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, but Sonwise propped her up against the tree. "C'mere, Barkis, and hold her up-that's a boy," he said as Barkis took his place.

Sonwise took a few steps back and raised his wand. "Now, we just gotta cast one spell and all our problems will be over. Finally, wed've killed the last of that godforsaken boy's family, and finally get revenge for him castin' us into Azkaban." Chandler opened her eyes wide, looking at the man with fright. She mouthed a word; a single word that Belladonna picked up.

Chastity looked to Belladonna. Belladonna's eyes were wide and her mouth slightly open. "She said a name," she whispered. "She said-"

"Victor," Tom finished for her, and they all looked at him. "Her brother's name was Victor." They all looked back up at the captors when they heard him laugh.

"That's right, girlie," Sonwise said, closing her mouth with his wand. "Victor, that no-good prick who locked us up in Azkaban! Ruined our lives, he did, ruined them very nicely! So we shut his pretty face up for good; and we saved his darling little sister for last. So, we'll make sure to torture you before you die, for ol' time's sake." He smirked and laughed a crackling, demented laugh, and Chandler began to struggle in Barkis' grasp, angry. She silently cursed-anybody who watched her could've instantly noticed she was-and Barkis gripped her tightly, pushing her away from the tree before slamming her into it again. It knocked the wind out of Chandler, who coughed inaudibly and hung her head, helpless at the mercy of her captors.

"Now, then," Sonwise said, lifting her face with a bony hand under her chin. "I think we'll pick up from where we left off," he said, and he raised his wand. Chandler's eyes went wide, and so did Tom's; for he knew this story, he knew every single chapter, and he knew exactly where they'd left off.

"Crucio!" the rogue yelled in a satisfied tone, and Chandler felt a shrieking pain rise up in her. Barkis let her go and she collapsed to the ground, writhing and screaming on the ground. This pain she knew too well, she saw it all too often in her dreams. She'd only lived through it once, and that one time was returning to her-the scream of her parents, her brother's shouts of her name, writhing on the glass-covered ground with not a thought of her name, forgetting who she was, a maggot in the dirt.

Sonwise's face morphed into a sadistic grin. "I'm gonna take the silencing charm off of her now," he said, and he raised his wand.

"Wait a sec, Sonwise-" Barkis said, but Sonwise grinned at him.

"They'll hear her screams and get to her when she's dead," he replied. "We'll kill her once they get here. It's fun to bait them." Barkis nodded to him, and Sonwise raised his wand and waved it. Instantly, the clearing was full of tortured screams.

Chastity ducked her head low, pressing her forehead to the dirty snow and clasping her eyes closed tightly; Belladonna slid down the bank and plugged her ears, tearing up; Robert pulled himself into a ball and kept his eyes wide open, shocked; Seth went pale where he lay; Nathaniel grit his teeth and grew angry; and Tom's eyes widened. He didn't know that torture also affected the people around them.

"Barkis, c'mere and get your fill of this!" he cried, and Sonwise approached the writhing teenager on the ground. He delivered a well-angled kick into her side and it jolted her screams a bit. Barkis watched, mortified, as the man began kicking Chandler faster and faster, in the exact same place as he did last time. Then, Barkis broke into a stupid grin and ran up to Chandler, kicking her other side-now both their faces were angled down and away from their surroundings.

Tom felt this was a distraction enough. He raised his wand, stood up, and waved it. A force pushed Sonwise back and he flew into a nearby tree, hitting it with a thud. Barkis ceased his kicking and looked at Tom-but Nathaniel had already summoned a spider that was scurrying quickly toward him. Barkis quickly summoned a vine and pulled the large spider down, crushing it effectively.

By then, Sonwise had gotten up and waved his wand, and a fireball shot forward; but Chastity stepped up and waved her wand and it ricocheted in mid-air and hit a nearby patch of snow which hissed and steamed. Robert cast a stupefy; Barkis dodged it and sent a vine crawling toward him; Seth made it crumple in and burn. Another vine grabbed Nathaniel's ankle as Sonwise sent forth another fireball, but Chastity redirected it into the vine that was taking Nathaniel away.

Tom tried to get to Chandler, but a fireball flew in front of him-he stepped back quickly, feeling the heat as it passed and flew into the forest. Sonwise turned his attention to him, but Seth cast a stupefy that pegged him in the temple and he fell to the ground, frozen.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Tom yelled, pointing his wand at a distracted Barkis, and he stiffened quickly, falling to the ground.

Slowly, everyone recovered from the bouts of war. They all walked into the clearing, helping one another recuperate-Belladonna walked into the clearing, dazed-and checking for any injury.

Tom turned his undivided attention to Chandler. Belladonna approached him slowly, as if she were studying him. He didn't notice.

She was silent and still. He pressed a hand to her neck, and felt a pulse. Sighing with relief, he pulled her sleeve up and looked up and down her arm for any stitches that split.

As he moved to examine her other arm, a small vial fell out of his pocket. He failed to notice, but Belladonna did. She walked to it, leaned down, and picked it up, examining it.

She'd seen this vial on Tom's person before; she didn't know what it was, but it was always 7/8ths of the way full. Now it was halfway full. Holding it up to the moonlight, she suddenly understood. She looked at Tom, who was busy examining Chandler's arms, and said, very quietly, "A little bit of luck, huh?"

He looked up at her, freezing once he noticed the vial. He stood up and approached her, taking it from her and giving her an even look. Up close, his features were hard and angular, his gaze unmerciful.

"Luck," he said. "Is obviously on her side." Then, he moved back to Chandler.

"Luck?" she murmured, and he looked up at her again. She looked sad, as if she were about to cry, her fists clenched at her side and her chin held high, as if she were in pain or about to face an injury. "Or love?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, but was pushed out of his reverie when Chastity kneeled next to him. "How's she looking, Riddle?" she asked, and he looked at her, but she was looking Chandler's body over, ghosting a hand over her arm.

"She's fine," he replied. "No doubt internally injured from that kicking, but Madame Adams can fix her up in a week or two."

"She's got to stop getting injured or she's going to get expelled," Nathaniel said, approaching. His hair was a bit singed on one side, but he was intact besides that.

Chastity shook her head. "Nahh," she said, a fond smile growing on her face as she stroked Chandler's arm. "She's done all her essays and homework and is passing with top marks... Somehow." She rolled her eyes. "Chandler's a miracle worker when it comes to her homework."

They heard footsteps, and Robert and Seth turned with their wands out, but it was just the headmaster and a few teachers. They instantaneously lowered their wands, smiles slipping on their faces, despite the fact that they could've gotten in trouble.

"Children," the headmaster said, alarmed. "Where are the rogues?"

"Stupefied and petrified," Seth murmured, pointing toward where their bodies lay. The headmaster instantly rushed over there, while a few teachers followed. The rest, which included Slughorn and Madame Adams, rushed over to where Chandler lay.

Slughorn and Madame Adams kneeled by her side. Slughorn seemed desperately worried, looking her over frantically, while Madame Adams was calm and collected, looking her over with slow, gentle movements. "She's got a bit of bruising on her stomach," she said, feeling Chandler's stomach softly. "But everything's intact inside, save a rib or two. She'll be out in a week tops." Madame Adams began to lift her up, but Slughorn was at her side instantly.

"Allow me, Madame," he said, and she nodded. He picked her up and looked at Tom. With a solemn nod, they started off to the school.

The headmaster stood from the rogues' bodies. He looked at the students. "Professor Dumbledore, can you please lead these children back to the castle? I shall deal with them later."

"Of course, Headmaster," he said, and he began walking into the woods. All the children followed.

As they grew further and further from the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore grew kinder. He began asking them questions on their ordeals with the rogues.

"How did you burn half your hair off, Mr. Sandhurst?" he asked. Nathaniel grinned.

"One of the rogues kept firing off fireballs, rapid fire," he said. "He was a horrible shot, though. Couldn't get a Quaffle past a blind, deaf, and dumb keeper."

Dumbledore laughed. "I say, that must have been quite the ordeal for all of you."

"The rogues said each other's names quite often," Chastity noted, and Dumbledore looked to her, interested. "There was Barkis and... Uhm..."

"Sonwise," Tom's voice echoed grimly, and they all looked back to see him trailing behind them, not getting closer but not getting nearer, too focused on his own thoughts. "His name was Sonwise."

"My, you have a very acute memory, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said. "Have you heard that name before?"

He shook his head, looking at the ground. "Never, sir," he said, his mind elsewhere. Dumbeldore turned his attention back to the others, looking at Belladonna.

"How did Nathaniel get his hair singed and you didn't?" he said. Belladonna cringed.

"Luck, I suppose," she said, and Nathaniel sighed.

"Yeah, you're lucky we didn't step on you by mistake; cower in fear, that's all she did, bravery sucked out of her like the happiness from a dementor's prey-"

"Shove off, Sandhurst!" she whirled on him. "In case you didn't notice, Chandler was _screaming_-"

He scowled at her. "We did, and we fought her ailment off together! What were you doing, I wonder? Counting particles of dirt? Cleaning your nails?"

"Enough, children," Dumbledore said. "Bravery is sometimes overrated if the circumstances are dire." Then, he grew interested again. "Screaming? What were they doing to her?"

"Chandler was placed under a curse," Robert said, tapping his chin. He looked at Seth. "What'd it start with, Andromede?"

"A 'C', I think," he replied. "We'd never learned it before."

"Cruciatus," Tom's voice rang again. Once again, they all looked back at him. "Crucio for short."

Dumbledore nodded, but his gaze was sad. "For how long?"

"Roughly 10 minutes, sir," he replied, finally looking up at everyone. "Is that roughly..?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that is about as long as she was under that spell last time."

Everyone looked, shocked, between Dumbledore and Tom.

"What?" Chastity asked.

Tom looked at her. "A month or two ago, Chandler arrived at the castle. She was weak, pale and exhausted. Have you ever wondered how she got those vicious cuts on her arms? Cuts you'd never even seen before tonight or maybe a few weeks ago?"

"I always thought..." Chastity looked ashamed of herself. "I always thought you did that, Riddle."

Tom shook his head. "I've never harmed her."

"She was attacked by those two rogues months ago," Dumbledore said. "On a night much like this. Her whole family was killed and she was placed under our care year-round. The cuts she got from writhing on a ground covered in glass shards; broken picture frames of her family." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "So she's suffered a second torture for the simple crime of being a relative of the one who imprisoned them. Vengeance is a language not well understood by the sane." He looked at Tom. "I'm glad she's okay."

"I am too..." Then he noticed what he was saying. He paused a moment, and added, "sir." He looked back at the ground.

"Great," Professor Dumbledore replied, and they headed toward the castle. He didn't ask any more questions. It seemed he got all he needed and found all that he was looking for.

Everyone sent glances back at him from time to time, but he ignored them, staring at the ground. It seemed he was now understanding the angle of the mischevious Liquid Luck. For it seemed that what Tom really wanted was something he'd never thought of at all.


End file.
